How to Slide Down Horatio Caine's Chimney
by Orange Sodie
Summary: Poor, blind Eric. So clueless. EC, RV
1. Scared? Take a Deep Breath and Try Again

Title: How to Slide Down Horatio Caine's Chimney in 10 Easy Steps  
Author: Carolina  
Rating: R for language  
Category: Humor, Romance  
Pairing: E/C, R/V  
Spoilers: None  
Author's Notes: Yet another answer to a fanfic challenge. Tis the season of challenges! The challenge has to include: snow, a Christmas angel, an argument, and the song/line 'I saw mommy kissing Santa Claus last night'. This fanfic is seriously more than 30 pages long. I'm not usually a fan of installments, but I'm gonna have to break it down into separate chapters. It's just easier to read and work with. But it's nearly finished, so don't worry about having to wait. I also have a deadline, so I _can't_ make you wait. Hope you guys enjoy it! Oh, and let's all hiss at fanfictionnet for making me cut my title. Hiss!

**How to Slide Down Horatio Caine's Chimney in 10 Easy Steps**  
by Carolina

On the 21st of December, and the end of the day shift, Eric Delko found himself on a mission.

Not a particularly important mission to the rest of the world, he was sure. After all, it wasn't a mission to stop crime, bring world peace, or even end hunger and suffering, but it was a mission nonetheless. And it was going to work.

He ran out of the elevator and made his way towards the break room, checking his watch as he jogged. Most of the night shift hadn't arrived yet, the lab was practically empty, and for a moment it felt kinda eerie. Usually the laboratories would be buzzing with energy and though he knew it would go back to normal in a couple of minutes, he also knew it wouldn't be as hectic as it could be during the summer or spring. Crime seemed to slow down a bit during the holidays, except for the occasional soccer mom trampled by a crowd as she desperately reached for whatever toy was popular that year, and really, it never took more than thirty minutes to solve a crime like that. True, the crimes, the real crimes, the shootings and robberies, the kidnappings, never took time off. But he found it always seemed a bit slow during the holidays. Maybe it was all in his head. He would have to ask someone else if they felt the same way.

Eric finally reached the break room and as soon as he opened the door, a sea of faces turned towards him. A little taken aback, his eyes immediately scanned the room for his boss.

"You're late," Horatio drawled.

Right. Follow the booming echo of Metatron, and there's Horatio Caine.

"Sorry," Eric said. "Is it over?"

"Just in time," Horatio said as he approached Eric. He put a velvet bag in front of him and added, "no peeking."

Eric drew his sleeve back, closed his eyes, and reached inside the velvet bag. And this was his mission.

Today was the 21st of December and someone around the lab, now he couldn't even remember who, had come up with the ingenious idea of doing a Secret Santa. Didn't take long for the entire lab to be excited about the game, to the point where other departments had been invited to play. The more the merrier, most people thought, but not Eric. The more people played, the less chances he would have of drawing out the name of the person he had in mind. And said person sat on the couch now, next to Frank Tripp, with one of those little smiles on her faces that let the world know Calleigh Duquesne was enjoying herself. Giddy. Calleigh was usually in a cheerful mood, but she looked particularly cute when she got giddy.

And that cuteness gave him all the more incentive to be extra careful when picking out his Secret Santa recipient. And if everything went according to plan, if the mission was successful, Calleigh Duquesne would be the name on the little piece of paper he was about to draw.

Eric felt around the bag. What seemed like hundreds of little papers grazed his fingers and he picked some of them, felt them out, and discarded them all. No Calleigh vibes coming from those. His Calleigh radar was finely tuned; he could feel her even in writing. This wouldn't really be a problem. Finally picked a particularly long one. That had to be it. Calleigh Duquesne is a long name and this paper was the longest one he had felt yet. Ha!

He pulled the paper out, made sure no one would be able to see, and read it to himself, a celebratory smile plastered on his face.

Horatio Caine!

His face fell. Horatio?

"Who's next?" Horatio said, moving towards the person next to Eric.

Horatio?

He frowned and read it again. There, in blue ink, was the name. Definitely not a typo. Horatio Caine. He read it again. Horatio Caine. And again. Horatio Caine. No, his eyes weren't deceiving him. He would have to slide down Horatio Caine's chimney this Christmas with nothing in his red bag but a cheap and crappy reason to get himself fired. Because really, what _do_ you get a man who cares for nothing but saving Miami from the wretched hands of criminals? A red cape? Night vision goggles? Yahtzee?

Suddenly he could hear screaming in his head. No, this wasn't fair! Could it possibly be a mistake? Maybe someone meant to write Calleigh Duquesne but wrote Horatio Caine instead? They both had that 'caine' sound in there. It was entirely possible.

"Uh, H?" he said out loud before he had the chance to stop himself.

"Something wrong, Eric?" Horatio asked, his eyes narrowed in a way that always made Eric feel a bit vulnerable and intimidated, like he had done something wrong. But this was important. This was a mission. Not a phase, or a caprice, or even an empty stubbornness. A _mission_! He had to speak out. He _had_ to get a second chance.

"Eric?" Horatio asked again and Eric could feel his heart beating faster, faster, until his hands were a little sweaty. His voice was gone. Everyone was looking at him, including Calleigh, and he felt like one of those suspects Horatio always questioned, fear making them piss their pants before their lawyers even got there. And then Horatio rested his hands on his hips and, well, that was it. Game over.

Fucking Catholicism.

"Nothing," Eric said, sitting down. He looked at the little piece of paper again and let out a sigh. Horatio. He would have to buy a gift for Horatio. Not Calleigh, not even Alexx. Horatio.

What a stupid, stupid game.

As Ryan dunk his hand into the little velvet bag, Eric looked up at Calleigh and caught her smiling at him. She didn't try to hide it, because of course friends can look at each other as many times as they want without it meaning anything. And that's what he was to her. A friend. A funny friend. A pathetic friend.

Nothing more.

Because who the hell was he to think he could be worthy of Calleigh Duquesne? She was only a goddess, and what was he? Suddenly Eric understood how Charlie Brown felt every time that little red haired girl was around. Good grief, he would never be able to handle fifty more years of this.

He smiled back, feeling like his insides were practically melting and his cheeks burning, until Valera whispered something in Calleigh's ear, stealing her attention away from Eric. He frowned. Both women started laughing, and he thought he could see Calleigh's cheeks turning red. Valera was looking in his direction, still whispering something in Calleigh's ear, and Eric looked around. Next to him, Sam Belmontes watched the same scene with a smile on his face. Of course. Who wouldn't blush at the sight of Sam? The man was an Adonis. Hell, get a couple of Mojitos in Eric's system and he was sure even _he_ would go home with Sam. No qualms. The man was that goddamn beautiful.

"You can't catch a break, can you?" Sam suddenly said.

Eric frowned at him. What, now he was _bragging_ about it? Jesus Christ, how rude. Eric sank in his chair and just rolled his eyes. Stupid Valera.

"Alright, everyone," Horatio said when the little velvet bag was empty; "you know the rules. Your gift cannot exceed thirty dollars, you cannot tell anyone who you got, and no cheating," Horatio said, reiterating those last two words like he was reading everyone their rights. "Who you got today is who you're buying a present for, period. Go home, have fun shopping. See you all tomorrow."

People began to gather their things and walk out of the break room, but Eric stayed behind, his fingers playing with the little paper in his pocket. Well, this was it. He might as well kiss his mission goodbye. Not only did he lose the chance of getting Calleigh her gift, but he would have to buy one for Horatio as well. It was like some sort of horrible and cunning joke from above. Ha ha, except not so much. Why did he have to agree to play this idiotic game in the first place? Right. Indifference with just a pinch of cowardice. A deadly combination.

"You okay, Eric?"

He looked up to see Calleigh in front of him, looking at him inquisitively, and a warm smile instinctively appeared on his face. Though he couldn't see himself, he was sure his cheeks were bright red and suddenly he felt like an idiot. Why did she have to be so beautiful? God, he was pathetic.

"Yeah," Eric said and looked down, glad the butterflies in his stomach didn't fly out as soon as he opened his mouth. No way would he have been able to explain that one.

"I think I might be getting the flu or something," he added, and coughed a couple of times for dramatic purposes. Horrible lie coming from a horrible liar, but at least she bought it.

"Oh, no," Calleigh said gravely, pressing her hand to Eric's forehead to feel his temperature. "Do you want some tea or something? I've got Tylenol in my locker."

He looked at her and smiled, trying to hide the way his skin shivered at her touch. Pathetic indeed. "Nah, I'll be okay. Thanks, Cal."

Calleigh smiled warmly at him, patted his shoulder a couple of times, her touch lingering but not long enough for him to think much of it. "See you tomorrow, then."

"Yeah, see ya," Eric smiled and watched her walk out of the break room. When she was out of sight, he took the little piece of paper out of his pocket and read it again.

Horatio Caine. Blue ink. Not a typo.

Suddenly Eric found himself shaking his head. That couldn't be it, could it? His parents hadn't almost died in a tiny raft that practically just floated all the way from Havana to Miami so he would end up having to buy a gift for Horatio Caine. He owed them that much. So he took a deep breath, feeling determined again, stood up, and walked out of the break room. This mission was going to be successful if it killed him.

To be continued...


	2. When in Doubt: Follow the Garden Gnomes

**How to Slide Down Horatio Caine's Chimney in 10 Easy Steps**  
By Carolina

The 22nd of December. T minus two days. Mission status: miraculously resurrected.

After a good night sleep, and a million different new plans, Eric felt his hope had been restored. He walked into the DNA lab, hoping to find some peace, quiet, and more importantly, some answers. No such luck. Ryan stood behind one of the microscopes, Valera next to him, and they seemed to be in the middle of a heated argument. No surprise there, but Eric had neither the patience nor the time to deal with this today.

"If you blow my epithelials away I'll make you get down on your hands and knees and find them, one by one," Valera threatened.

"And yet I would still be able to find them before you process my sample," Ryan retaliated.

"Guys," Eric said, but was ignored.

"I've been working here for five years, that's five years more than you—"

"Oh, good! Then maybe in five years, I can get my results—"

"Don't put any ideas in my head!"

"Hey!" Eric finally shouted.

Ryan and Valera looked up simultaneously and barked, "what?!"

Eric didn't let their foul moods faze him. "Any of you got Calleigh in the Secret Santa draw?"

"That's supposed to be a secret," Ryan said.

Eric feigned shock. "No! Really? Wow. Did you know that, Valera? The _Secret_ Santa is supposed to be a _secret_!

Valera chuckled, but Ryan frowned. "Okay, you don't have to get sarcastic."

"Sorry," Eric said. "So. Secret Santa. Calleigh."

"Why do you wanna know?" Valera asked.

"Did you get her or not?" Eric asked.

"Depends. Why do you wanna know," Valera asked again.

Eric sighed. "I need to switch."

"You're not supposed to switch," Ryan said.

Eric ignored him. "Did you get her?"

"_I_ didn't," Valera said.

"Do you know who did?"

"What am I, the oracle?" Valera asked.

"No, but you're the office gossip, so if someone knows who got Calleigh, that's you," Eric reasoned. "So, can you find out?"

"Maybe if I knew your motivation for the switch," Valera retorted.

"You can find out who got Calleigh in the Secret Santa draw, but you can't process my sample?" Ryan asked.

"Excuse me, I'm talking to _people_ right now," Valera said to Ryan belligerently, and looked at Eric again. "So?"

Eric sighed. "Okay, but this stays in this room, Valera. I don't want you out there telling everyone. Especially Calleigh."

"Yeah, yeah, don't worry about it," Valera said confidently.

It was Ryan's turn to chuckle sarcastically. "Incidentally, those were the last words my victim heard... before they shoved a pistol in her mouth. Not that I'll ever be able to find out who the shooters were, what with the DNA lab's _magnificent_ speed."

"That attitude is not gonna make me process your sample any faster," Valera said.

"I'm beginning to wonder if you're capable of processing samples at all," Ryan quipped.

Eric sighed loudly. "You know what? I don't have time for this. I'll come back after you've both reached your respective verbal orgasms."

"No," Valera exclaimed. "Eric, come on. Don't you want my help?"

"I do, Valera, but if you two are just gonna stand there and ignore me, then I'll just ask someone else," Eric said.

"No, come on, I need a Christmas project," Valera said, her voice a bit whiny before it went back to normal. "So, why do you need to switch for Calleigh?"

Eric shook his head. This mission wasn't working out too well. Half a day into it and he already had a headache. And now Valera was asking questions. Giving information to Valera could be dangerous, but for some reason the words stumbled out of his mouth in one single breath, "I got Calleigh a present and I wanted to give it to her for Christmas. There. There. Now would you _please_ find out who got her?"

Valera smiled to herself, but Ryan merely frowned in confusion. "So, why can't you just give it to her as a regular gift?"

"Because," Eric hesitated, "it's a bit complicated."

"Complicated how?"

Valera turned to Ryan. "He thinks that if he gives it to her as a regular present, she'll take it as an indication that he loves her, which... he _does_, but he's a chicken and won't tell her. And now he has to hide behind the Secret Santa pretense to continue to carry out this miserable and cowardly existence he likes to call 'a life'."

Ryan grinned. "Oh, I _see_."

Eric looked shocked as he stammered, "you _couldn't_ be more wrong about that."

"Honestly, Eric," Valera sighed, "this is beyond pathetic. Even for you."

"This is not..." Eric erupted but then calmed himself, "Okay, I am not having this conversation with you right now. Just find out who got Calleigh for me, _please_."

Valera sighed indignantly. "Who'd you get?"

Eric frowned. "What's the difference?"

"Do you want me to find out or not?"

Eric rolled his eyes and hesitated before he mumbled, "Horatio."

"Ooooh," Ryan and Valera said in unison.

"No way would I switch with you for Horatio," Ryan added.

"Yeah, _nobody's_ gonna trade you Calleigh for Horatio. So if you really, really want Calleigh, you better do a pre-emptive switch," Valera said.

Eric shook his head in confusion (it was starting to become a familiar feeling) and looked to Ryan for answers.

"If you want someone to switch you for Calleigh, you're gonna have to give them something good in return. Calleigh's an easy gift, Horatio's the boss. It's like exchanging gold for... goose crap," Ryan explained.

"Not that Horatio is goose crap," Valera added.

"No, of course not," Ryan said. "But I can think of a lot of things I'd rather do instead of buying Horatio a gift. _Including_ bathing in goose crap."

"Yup," Valera nodded.

Eric shook his head. "You two really need to stop being around each other for a while."

"I'll find out who got Calleigh for you, but it's not gonna be easy," Valera said. "If you haven't noticed, I'm swamped with work right now, not to mention the fact that it looks like I'll be getting nothing out of this."

Eric raised his eyebrows and smiled charmingly. "Is my eternal gratitude enough?"

"Can't really buy myself a car with your eternal gratitude," Valera said. "Can't even use it as collateral."

"Okay," Eric said. "If you find out who got Calleigh for me, I'll make it up to you. I don't know how, but I promise it'll be something good."

"How good?"

"Good." Eric replied.

"Yes, but _how_ good?" Valera asked again.

"Oh, good grief," Ryan exclaimed. "Okay, I wanna go home at the end of my shift today, no later than that. And I want to get this sample processed, preferably before the New Year arrives. So I will make things easier for you and Costello over here. I got Calleigh. You take her." He reached into his pocket and handed Eric a small piece of paper.

"Thank you, Ryan," Eric said, grinning. But when he opened the piece of paper, his smile turned into a frown. "This says 'Valera'."

Valera gasped, turned around, and smacked Ryan in the head.

"Ow!"

"You ruined the surprise!"

"What's the difference? You were gonna find out anyway," Ryan said.

"No, I didn't. I didn't want to know!" Valera cried.

"Well, I'm sorry, I didn't know it was that important to you," Ryan exclaimed, rubbing his head.

"It's a _Secret_ Santa!" Valera looked like she was about to explode for just a second, but then just grunted and stormed out. "Forget it!"

Ryan watched her go and then threw his arms in the air. "Great. Just great!"

"Sorry, man," Eric said.

"You know, I've been working here for three months, she's done nothing but make my life miserable and what's worse, I don't even know why she hates me so much," Ryan said.

Eric chuckled to himself and shook his head in amusement. "I don't think she hates you, Ryan."

"Did you _not_ see her hit me right now?" Ryan exclaimed, rubbing the throbbing spot on his head. "I think I feel a bump. Oh my God, please tell me she was wearing gloves."

Eric sighed and shook his head. "Ryan, Ryan, Ryan."

"Oh, what? She plays around with strange fluids all day, God knows what's under her fingernails."

Eric chuckled again and continued. "Poor, stupid, clueless Ryan."

"_What_?" Ryan exclaimed.

Eric smiled as he casually leafed through some of the files on Valera's table. "I think... maybe Valera likes you."

"Please," Ryan said incredulously.

"Really."

Ryan thought about that for a moment and looked at Eric reluctantly. "She told you that?"

"Of course not, but I've known Valera for a while. This is her way of... trying to tell you something she doesn't know how to say with words," Eric explained.

"She hits?"

"Only when she cares."

"Great," Ryan sighed, looking in the direction Valera had gone to. He seemed to think about what Eric had said for a while. He was sure it was mostly bullshit. Some days he could actually see the hatred in her eyes. He could _see_ it. He was sure if she could shoot rays out of her eyes, he would be dust by now. No way did Valera like him. She _despised_ him!

So he shook his head and looked at Eric again, trying to put it all out of his mind. "Anyway, I'm no office oracle, but I think I know who got Calleigh."

Eric's eyes widened. "Who?"

"Tyler," Ryan answered.

"How do you know?"

"When he reached into the bag and read his little piece of paper, he looked at Calleigh," Ryan explained.

"So?"

"So, when you were little, what was the first thing you did when you drew a name from the bag? You looked at the person. It's a sure telltale. Tyler, definitely Tyler."

"Tyler," Eric repeated, pondering the possibility. "Okay, okay, Tyler's cool. I can deal with Tyler. Thanks, Ryan."

"No problem."

"Now, apologize to Valera."

Ryan frowned and gaped. "I didn't do anything wrong."

"Apologize anyway."

"Why?"

"You're a man. That's your job."

Ryan sighed. "Fine. But let the record show it's not my fault Valera overreacted like she did. I was just an innocent bystander who was merely trying to get his DNA sample processed and my actions, or lack thereof, were simply the result of a hostile working environment."

"Duly noted," Eric said and walked out of the room as Ryan went in search of Valera.

Alright, those were ten minutes of his life he would _never_ get back. So back to square one. If Valera was mad, then no way would she help him out with his mission. And though Eric had been able to hide it well, he was sure Ryan was starting to get suspicious regarding his gift for Calleigh and his intentions behind it. But that didn't worry him too much. Ryan hated gossip; he wouldn't walk around babbling to everyone about it behind Eric's back. Ryan also admired him, he would never do anything to betray Eric's trust, and that made him feel much better. Ryan wasn't a threat. Valera, on the other hand...

He would have to apologize to her, as well. Not that he had done anything wrong, either, but when it came to women, he had learned to take the blame before anything even happened. Always sleep with one eye open... and a loaded weapon under your pillow. That was his motto. Hopefully he would be able to pass that advice onto Ryan, because the guy seemed to be _clueless_ when it came to women. Apparently blind, too, because Eric thought it was obvious Valera liked him. He had a keen eye on these things. They didn't call him... well, they didn't call him _anything_, but still, he was a pro. He knew women like he knew the back of his hand.

As he walked down the hallway and towards the front desk, he spotted a flash of blonde walk out of one of the lab rooms. Headache suddenly forgotten, he instantly smiled as Calleigh made her way towards him. If she knew what a strong hold she had on him, she'd probably use those powers for evil. Eric knew he would, if only _someone_ around the lab saw him with those eyes. Hell, even Ryan was the object of someone's affection. Eric suddenly felt depressed. What was _wrong_ with him? Was he losing his touch? Had turning twenty eight suddenly killed off his charm?

"Hey, skipper," Calleigh said, flirty, stopping in front of him to feel his left cheek, checking to see if he had a fever. "Feeling better?"

"All better," Eric smiled.

"Good," she smiled back, a little twinkle appearing in her eyes. "It's a little slow today; do you want to grab some lunch with me?"

"Uh," Eric hesitated, his attention suddenly on Tyler, who was walking towards the A/V lab, file in hand. "I can't right now, have some business with Tyler."

"Oh," Calleigh said, a twinge of disappointed in her tone, but she hid that quickly by taking a deep breath and tapping one of the buttons of his shirt playfully before smiling again. "Maybe another time?"

"Sure," Eric said, gave her a smile, and watched her go. In the distance he could see Ryan following Valera around, desperately begging her for forgiveness. But Valera seemed to be having none of it, though he could clearly see a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

Eric shook his head and chuckled. Poor, blind Ryan. So clueless.


	3. Dodge Sticks and Stones: They Beak Bones

**How to Slide Down Horatio Caine's Chimney in 10 Easy Steps**  
By Carolina

Hope restored, Eric sighed as he stood in front of the A/V lab, his hand on the knob. Tyler was closer to Calleigh than he was to anyone else around the lab and that made Eric feel much better. Surely he would help him out if Eric explained his situation. Being Calleigh's cohort, Tyler would want to see her happy. Yup, he could deal with Tyler.

Hopefully.

Eric took a deep breath and opened the door, thankful to see Tyler was alone. The room was slightly darkened, as it always was, except for a couple of Christmas decorations Tyler had decided could liven the room up a little bit. A few strands of tinsel around the computers, a couple of pictures of Santa Claus on the wall... Eric frowned at the tiny Christmas tree that sat between two monitors. He was beginning to resent this holiday.

"Hey, Tyler," he greeted, coming around to sit beside the young tech.

"Eric Delko," Tyler said, his eyes examining the monitors in front of him as if Eric wasn't there at all. "What can I do for you?"

Eric hesitated for a moment, chuckling nervously. Tyler's words could sting when he wanted them to. He would have to proceed with caution. "Uh, you remember the Secret Santa draw?"

"The one that took place last night, yes," Tyler said.

And there is was. The sarcasm. When it came to affectionate cynicism, Tyler was the king.

"Right," Eric said, scratched the back of his ear a couple of times. Just to give his hand something to do. "Ryan told me you got Calleigh, and I was wondering if maybe you could switch with me."

Tyler finally looked at Eric and frowned. "Ryan said I got Calleigh?"

"He said you looked at Calleigh after you read your little piece of paper," Eric explained. "Apparently that means—"

"She was sitting right in front of me," Tyler explained. "Where was I supposed to look?"

"So you didn't get Calleigh?"

"Sorry, man," Tyler said.

Eric sighed. Another dead end road. Headache reaching a higher level of painful. Hope taken out back and shot.

"So, you want Calleigh?"

"What?" Eric yelped a bit nervously.

"You said you wanted to switch for Calleigh," Tyler explained.

"Oh," Eric said, looking at a surveillance tape Tyler seemed to be studying, glad it was there as a distraction. "Uh, yes."

"Why?"

"Uh, it's a long story."

"It's a slow day," Tyler said, paused the tape, and leaned back on his chair. "Begin."

Eric looked around the room reluctantly, foolishly. There was nobody in the room with them, but you can't be too careful in this building, especially with Valera lurching around. "Okay, a couple of months ago I found this... thing that I thought would make a great present for Calleigh. I wanted to give it to her for her birthday, but that's in two months, and I don't wanna wait that long."

"And this... thing," Tyler mocked him, "wouldn't happen to be a naked Eric Delko wrapped in a red ribbon, would it?"

"What?"

Tyler shook his head and went back to his surveillance tape. "I don't know why you can't just tell her, it's so obvious."

Eric frowned. Huh?

"What's obvious?"

"Your little school boy crush. Everyone knows about it."

Eric chuckled nervously. "I don't have a crush on Calleigh."

Tyler mimicked Eric's chuckle, sarcastically. "Right."

"I'm serious," Eric said, reiterating the last word. "And what do you mean everyone knows about it?"

"Everyone knows about it," Tyler said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Eric frowned again. The hell? Everyone who? Everyone just walked around, talking about his personal life? When was this all taking place? Oh, he was gonna _kill_ Valera.

"Well, everyone couldn't be more wrong, because there's nothing going on between me and Calleigh."

Tyler sighed in annoyance, giving Eric a look of mild amusement. "Look, this is cute, this is _very_ cute. I'm sure it's warm and sunny over there in denial, where you spend most of your time sketching Calleigh's wedding dress and imagining what it would be like to have 32 half white, half Cuban, half French, half Russian kids with her. And in your pathetic dream you both sit back and relax under the sun during Christmas day as the little tykes run around in their little wet suits, shooting things and singing I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus Last Night. And I'm _sure_ it's sad every time you wake up and realize what a coward you are that you can't even tell her of your forbidden love, but this whole Secret Santa deal, Eric? You've just reached a whole new level of sad."

Eric blinked. Wow.

"First of all, thank you for being so sensitive about it," he said cynically.

"You're very welcomed."

Eric ignored him. "Second, it's not sad because there's absolutely no ulterior motive behind it. I found a nice present and I wanna give it to her. What's the big deal?"

"Okay, then. If it's no big deal, just give it to her," Tyler said.

"I can't."

"And why would that be?" Tyler teased. "Because you don't want her to know of your forbidden—"

"Because this is Calleigh we're talking about," Eric interrupted him. "You know how she gets."

Tyler shook his head. "I never believed it was possible for someone to be handsome and dorky at the same time, Eric. But then I met you."

Eric rolled his eyes and shook his head disbelievingly. "Is there a special reason why everyone feels the need to insult me today, or is this a regular occurrence I wasn't privy to?"

Tyler raised his eyebrows and shook his head. Straight people. They had to be insane. "Okay, fine, think what you will. But you know what? I like you, so I'm gonna help you out. I think I know who got Calleigh."

Eric immediately rolled his chair closer. "Who?"

Tyler looked around to make sure no one was listening and inched closer to Eric. "A couple of minutes ago I walked into the break room and saw Alexx leafing through a holster catalog."

Eric blinked. "And?"

"And why else would she have a holster catalog, if not to buy _Calleigh_ a present?"

"Holsters are expensive," Eric said. "The gifts are supposed to be less than thirty dollars."

"Yeah, but you know Alexx," Tyler said. "When she likes you she goes overboard. And Calleigh is her favorite. No way is she going to get her a thirty dollar present."

Eric thought about this for a while. Of course it made sense. Calleigh's holster was looking a little ragged these days. And now that Speed was gone, Calleigh had quickly moved into Alexx's Favorite Person slot to replace him.

Interesting.

"Am I right or am I right?" Tyler asked.

"Let's find out," Eric said as he stood up. "Thanks, Tyler."

Tyler watched him go, and as soon as Eric opened the door, he chuckled and called out, "Thirty two kids, you dog."

"Shut up," Eric grumbled and shut the door behind him.

Once outside, Eric sighed. Alright, this was starting to prove just a _little_ bit harder than he had anticipated. Annoying as well. Where did everybody get the idea that he was in love with Calleigh? Fine, common sense seemed to disappear whenever she was around, his mouth tended to get a little dry as well, and true, he _did_ forget his own name once, but really, it's not like he walked around behind her like some sort of pathetic love struck puppy. He was smooth. He was collected. He was a hell of a damn good actor and his parents had the video of his third grade production of Peter Pan to prove it.

So either Tyler was just teasing him, or Valera was beginning to spread her nasty rumors again. Eric shook his head. That woman was a force not to be reckoned with. Mental note: apologize to Valera twice – for Ryan's romantic incompetence and for whatever it was he had done to make her spread those lies.

As he crossed the hallway on his way to the break room, he could see none other than Calleigh herself from where he stood, cheerfully chatting away with Stephanie, leaning against the desk, providing Eric with a _really_ nice rear view shot...

Okay, so maybe he thought about her a little too much. _Maybe_. But hell, he was straight. She was beautiful. Just simple biology, really. In his experience, guys who didn't think Calleigh was beautiful were either crazy or gay. And despite the fact that he tended to lose it sometimes, he wasn't crazy, and he _certainly_ wasn't gay. Not that there's anything wrong with that. He was simply a pitcher, not a catcher. Nothing wrong with that either.

And really, none of that mattered at all, because if Eric was certain of one thing in his life it was the fact that Calleigh was not attracted to him _at all_. Elephants would fly before she even thought about him romantically. He knew that better than he knew how to blink. He had even come to accept it. So where everybody had gotten the idea that he was in love with Calleigh Duquesne was _beyond_ him.

"Eric, you're not going to find the name of your shooter printed on Calleigh's butt cheek. Get back to work!" Horatio barked as he walked by.

Eric jumped and froze in place. By the time he turned around, Horatio was gone.

He frowned. Had that happened at all or had it been some horrible midday terror? Eric looked around to make sure no one had heard. Luckily, the hallway was empty, save for the pictures of Santa Claus that now stared at him as if _he_ was the one wearing an unflattering outfit. And then there was Calleigh, who was now looking in his direction with an amused smile on her face.

Had she heard that? No, she couldn't have. Too far away. Plus if she had, she would've shot him by now. Men don't usually check Calleigh out, even if sometimes it's just an impulse, and live to tell about it.

Still, that was close. Too close to breathe a sigh of relief yet.

So he just stood there, almost statuesque like. Any sudden movements and she could attack at any moment. Better be safe than sorry. But Calleigh just smiled playfully and winked at him, looking happy and oh, so cute.

Didn't take long after that for his cheeks to start stinging. Suddenly his tongue was completely dry and getting worse at the mere knowledge that she was still looking in his direction. So he looked down and cleared his throat, trying to figure out which way was left and which way was right. Finally picked one at random and walked away.

Off to the break room to talk to... what's her face.


	4. Whatever You Do, Don't Panic!

**How to Slide Down Horatio Caine's Chimney in 10 Easy Steps**  
by Carolina

Hope restored... again... Eric watched through the break room's glass window as Alexx quietly ate her lunch. Tyler had been right; she was leafing through a catalog, though Eric couldn't see what type of catalog it was from where he stood. Still, it's not like catalogs were usually left in the break room unattended, so that _had_ to be it. Maybe Tyler would succeed where Ryan had failed?

He took a deep breath, trying to get rid of his headache through it, but no use. Luckily, Alexx was the easiest person in the lab to get along with. The mission was already looking successful. He was sure Alexx would switch with him, given the right amount of charm and persuasion. He was sure of it. Maybe he wasn't her favorite, but she _loved_ to spoil him. True, Ryan was officially the youngest CSI now, but Eric was still her baby. Oh yeah, this would be easy. So he smiled, feeling confident, for once, and went inside.

Alexx didn't turn around to see who had walked in, merely kept looking through the pages intently. So Eric smiled his best smile and sat down. "Hey, Alexx."

Alexx looked up and smiled warmly. "Hi, honey."

Eric's eyes immediately looked over the catalog she was leafing through. Holsters. Bingo! His smile grew wider. "Eating a sandwich?"

"You're the detective," Alexx replied.

Eric nodded. Silence crept into the room. Alexx seemed completely comfortable with it, but Eric was beginning to feel stifled. So he decided to just dive into it. "So Tyler says you got Calleigh in the Secret Santa draw."

Alexx looked up. "I did?"

"Yes. And I need you to switch with me," Eric said.

"Why?"

"Because you like me so much," Eric said, trying to sprinkle some charm on it. Hey, never hurt anybody. "And because _I_ was supposed to get Calleigh."

"You were?"

"Yes."

Alexx nodded. "And I stole her from you?"

"Well, I'm sure your intentions weren't malicious," Eric said. "But yeah, you did."

"Are you at least going to read me my rights before you throw me into Secret Santa prison?" Alexx joked.

"Alexx!"

Alexx chuckled. "I'm sorry, honey, but I didn't get Calleigh."

Eric's smiled turned into a frown, hope dashed again. He stared at her for a while, mouth partially opened. "You didn't?"

"Nope."

Eric sighed, groaned, and threw his head back. "But Tyler said—"

"Well, Tyler was wrong," Alexx said.

"But you're browsing through a _holster_ catalog!"

"It was laying here unattended," Alexx said casually, taking another bite of her sandwich. She was about to return to her catalog when suddenly Eric's head hit the table. "Eric, are you okay?"

Eric mumbled something incoherently.

"What was that?" Alexx asked, inching her head closer. She stroked his back for a couple of seconds, trying to soothe him or feel for a fever. Calleigh mentioned something about him being sick the night before. Men. Like children, you have to practically force them to take their medicine.

Eric's body suddenly shot up and he grabbed one of Alexx's hands. "You have to help me, Alexx."

"With what?" Alexx asked, taken a little aback.

"I got Calleigh a present and I want to give it to her this Christmas and if I don't..." he paused, seemingly looking for the right words, but quickly gave up, "...well, I don't know what's gonna happen. But I'm not going to be too happy and you hate seeing me unhappy, right Alexx?"

"Of course," Alexx said, brushing her hand against his arm. "Are you sure you're feeling okay, honey?"

"Oh, I'm fine. I'm fine. I'll be fine when I get rid of this fucking piece paper," he said, reaching inside his pocket for it and smacking it on the table with a little too much force, "and have one that says Calleigh Duquesne on it. Not Horatio Caine, Calleigh _Du_quesne. I know they rhyme, but they're not the same thing!"

"Okay, alright, let's take a deep breath now," Alexx said soothingly, putting her sandwich down and forcing him to stand up.

"I don't need to breathe. I know how to breathe," Eric squabbled.

Alexx ignored that. "And why don't we lie down for a while, huh?"

"Why?" Eric asked, sitting on the couch.

"Just humor me, okay?" Alexx said, making him lay down. She reached inside her purse for a little bottle and handed him a tiny pill.

"What's this?" Eric asked, inspecting it closer.

"Drink it," Alexx ordered, handing him her juice.

Eric gulped it down without giving it much thought because hey, Alexx is a doctor. What was the worst thing that could happen? Well, she could _kill_ him, but at this point he was beginning to feel okay with that. At least he wouldn't have to buy a present for Horatio from the afterlife. And at least Alexx would do the autopsy herself. It would be nice, having someone to talk to in the morgue. Maybe Calleigh would even cry for him a bit...

Huh.

Eric shook his head when suddenly it started sounding like a _really_ good idea. Nope, death wasn't an acceptable potential outcome of this mission. Insanity, yes. But death? No.

Well, not self-inflicted anyway.

Alexx pressed her hand to his forehead, remembering all those times she had to stay home with Bryan when he got sick, and smiled. "All better?"

Eric sighed, staring at the ceiling. "Did I just yell at you right now?"

"You raised your voice a bit, yeah," Alexx replied.

"Sorry, Alexx," Eric said, staring at the ceiling.

"Hey, we all go a little crazy every once in a while," Alexx said, dragging a chair closer and placing it next to the couch. She sat down. "Now, what's this I hear about a present for Calleigh?"

Eric let out a heavier sigh. "I got her a present."

"Yeah."

"And I need to be her Secret Santa," Eric said miserably. "Because I got her a present."

Alexx frowned. "Okay. So just give it to her, baby. What's the problem?"

"I can't just give it to her like that, I need an excuse," Eric said, sitting up, his body suddenly full of energy again.

"Why?" Alexx asked but then raised her eyebrows knowingly and smiled suggestively. "Oh, _right_."

Eric shook his head, his eyes widening. "No, no. No 'right'."

"Let me tell you something, honey," Alexx said, sitting down next to him, ignoring Eric's frustrated sigh. "I've known Calleigh longer than you, okay? If you're scared that she might turn you down—"

"No, no," Eric repeated. "This isn't... that, okay? This is just a _friend_ giving another _friend_ a gift. That's it."

Alexx looked at him incredulously. "If it's a friendly gesture, then why do you need an excuse?"

"Because," Eric sighed, frustration making the headache intensify. Why couldn't anyone _understand_? Had he been speaking in Russian this whole time? Spanish? Esperanto?

"Calleigh doesn't like getting presents, okay? She gets embarrassed and I don't wanna make her uncomfortable," he explained.

Alexx let out an insinuative chuckle. "Are you sure you're not doing this _precisely_ to get her uncomfortable."

"Anyway," Eric said sharply, choosing to ignore that. "If I give it to her as her Secret Santa rather than her friend, she won't feel uncomfortable. That's why. No ulterior motive, just taking precautions."

Alexx sighed and crossed her arms in front of her. "What's the present?"

Eric shook his head. "Can't say."

"How much did it cost?"

"Can't say either."

Alexx narrowed her eyes. "Fifty bucks?"

"Alexx..."

"A hundred? A hundred bucks?"

"I'm not telling you."

Alexx gasped and frowned. "Two hundred, Eric? You spent two hundred dollars on a present for Calleigh? Are you out of your mind?"

"Why are you scolding me?" Eric exclaimed.

"Because if you paid more than two hundred dollars on a present you just _happened_ to see for Calleigh, then I got news for you, honey, this ain't no innocent gift. So are you lying to me now?"

"No! What the hell, Alexx?"

Alexx sat back, crossing her arms in front of her again. "You know you're not fooling anyone with this, right?"

Eric moaned and threw his head back again. "Why? Why is it so hard to believe I saw a great present for a _friend_ and just bought it? How does that instantly mean I'm in love with Calleigh? Why can't you people just leave me alone?!"

She smiled, patting his arm affectionately. "I'm not being mean, sweetie. You, Calleigh, Valera... you're like my children. I've seen the way you look at her, a mother knows that look. I bet your mother would be able to tell, too."

Eric frowned. "Well that's... nice, I guess. Kinda creepy, considering I used to stare at your chest all the time, but nice, too."

Alexx shook her head. "Plus, three hundred dollars, Eric? Isn't that a little extravagant?"

"I never said it cost three hundred dollars, you just assumed. Maybe it cost fifty cents. You don't know."

"You didn't pay fifty cents for it. If you're going through all this trouble, then you paid a lot of money for this gift," Alexx said.

Eric shrugged his shoulders. "And so what, what if I paid a million dollars for it? What's the difference?!"

"The difference is you're not a millionaire. I've seen your paychecks, so I _know_ you can't afford something that expensive," Alexx smiled, stroking his back. "It's okay, honey, I won't tell anyone. They already know, but it must get kinda lonely in your world of denial. I'll keep you company."

"Okay, if you're gonna get all Tyler on me, I'm out," Eric said, stood up, but suddenly a wave of dizziness hit him and he was on the couch again. "Whoa."

"Easy there."

"What the hell did you give me, Alexx?" Eric asked.

"Just a little something for the flu," Alexx answered, making him lay down again.

"The flu?"

"Just lay down, you'll feel better soon," Alexx said.

Eric did as she said, watching as the ceiling spun around and around. His vision was blurry and suddenly he couldn't tell which way was up and which was down. "I think I'm gonna throw up."

"What did you eat for lunch?"

"Haven't had it yet," Eric said.

Alexx's eyes widened. "You took that pill without eating first?"

"Well, when a doctor tells me to take something, I tend to take it," Eric exclaimed. His eyes immediately conveyed panic. "Why? What is it gonna do to me?"

"Oh, nothing. Don't be a cry baby," Alexx said, reaching for what had remained of her sandwich. "Here, eat it."

As soon as she handed Eric the sandwich, the break room door opened and in walked Horatio, narrowing his eyes at Eric and Alexx. "Eric, didn't I ask you to go back to work?"

"Eric is sick, he's staying here for a while," Alexx said protectively, unbuttoning the first buttons of his shirt to help him breathe easier.

"Eric?" Horatio asked, hands akimbo.

"I'll be right there, H," Eric said.

"Ten minutes," Horatio said and walked out.

Eric sighed and looked at Alexx. "First you drug me, now you're trying to get me fired... you used to love me, Alexx. What happened?"

Alexx chuckled. "Don't worry about Horatio, I got him right here," she said, pointing at the palm of her hand.

"Wanna be his Secret Santa, then? He can't fire _you_ for giving him a crappy present," Eric said and took a bite of her sandwich. Mm, tuna.

"You're Horatio's Secret Santa?" Alexx asked, watching as he grimaced and nodded. "Oh, you poor thing."

"See? It's been a hard couple of days. I just need some love from you, Alexx. That's all," Eric said.

"Aw," Alexx cooed, caressing his cheek. "You know you're my baby."

Eric smiled and blushed. "Thank you."

Alexx smiled. "Now listen, this thing with Calleigh. Just give her the present. What's the worst thing that could happen?"

Eric frowned. "She has 17 guns, Alexx," he said. "And she knows how to use each and every one of them."

Alexx chuckled. "I don't think you're giving Calleigh the credit she deserves," she said. "And if it's a nice present, she'll be too touched to get mad at you. In fact, I think she'll be very happy."

"You think?"

"I _know_," Alexx said suggestively.

Eric frowned reluctantly. "Maybe."

Alexx rolled her eyes and shook her head. "So you'll give it to her, no more crazy shenanigans?"

"I'll think about it."

"Good," Alexx said. "Now I have to go back to work, are you going to be okay here?"

Eric smiled. "Thanks, Alexx."

"No problem," Alexx said and stood up to leave.

When she reached the door, Eric frowned. "Alexx?"

She turned around.

"If she does kill me, be gentle when you do my autopsy, okay? No rectal examinations."

Alexx chuckled. "Couldn't if I wanted to, honey. Looks like Calleigh beat me to it." She winked and walked out.

"Ha ha!" Eric shouted.

When she was out of sight, he stared at the sandwich, giving it a frown. Could he possibly just give Calleigh her present without an excuse and still make it out alive? The chances of that were probably about as slim as the chances of Ryan voluntarily walking into the DNA lab without wearing gloves. Meaning: practically nonexistent. He could still remember that time John Hagen showed up with a huge bouquet of flowers and a pair of insanely expensive earrings. Eric was sure Calleigh didn't kill him merely because there were too many witnesses. And she must have made him take them back, because Eric hadn't seen her wear them once. And if she reacted that way with her then boyfriend, no way would she react differently with Eric.

He sighed hopelessly, closing his eyes and waiting for this mild high to pass. Well, at least the headache was gone.


	5. Scared of Heights? Just Don't Look Down

**How to Slide Down Horatio Caine's Chimney in 10 Easy Steps**  
by Carolina

Processing evidence on a flu medicine high wasn't a lot of fun, Eric had decided. Neither was following Horatio around all of Miami through the mild haze, threatening suspects and leaving empty promises at desperate widows' doorsteps. He spent half his time either sleeping in the car or trying _not_ to fall asleep in the car. Lucky for Eric, Horatio seemed to feel guilty about dragging him out while he had the 'flu' and pretty much just let him be. Lucky for Horatio, they hadn't had to respond to any shootings or potentially dangerous situations; because Eric was sure he wouldn't be able to find his own toes, let alone his gun amidst the stress and the daze.

Mental note – Alexx doesn't work with living organisms for a reason.

What's worse is he didn't see Calleigh for the rest of the day. Not good. Usually when his encounters with Calleigh were limited or nonexistent, he tended to have the worst days, whether it was coincidence or paranoia, he could never tell. But this time was no different.

Nineteen lab techs, CSIs and cops, and none of them had drawn Calleigh's name in the Secret Santa. For a moment there he thought he'd hit the jackpot with Yelina, but as it turns out she was talking about a completely different thing. Cabbages, or castration, or something he never quite understood. How Horatio was able to decipher that woman's strange language was beyond Eric.

Thankfully, the day was over. Or nearly over. He walked into the locker room, nodding his head politely at some of the night shift CSIs, who were on their way to pick up where he had left off. As soon as they left, Eric found himself alone. He opened his locker and threw half his things inside, picking up the jacket he would need to shield himself from the chilly night. For a moment he wondered if he could drive home. The effects of whatever Alexx had given him were beginning to wear off, but tempting fate after the horrible day he had had could be a disastrous thing.

So he called a cab company and after being informed he would have to wait fifteen minutes, he sat down, staring at his own locker. One glance at Calleigh's didn't need to tell him she had gone home already; all her cases had been solved and surely she wouldn't hang out at work after hours. Who would? Well, maybe Horatio, but Eric was pretty sure Horatio had long ago evolved into a superior living organism that didn't need sleep to survive. Maybe if he disciplined himself, he would, too.

Didn't take a lot of waiting for Alexx's words to start dancing in his head again. At this point he would have to either wait for a nearly improbable opportunity to arrive, or like she had suggested, just dive into it like some sort of half-crazed kamikaze. Neither seemed more alluring than the other at the moment. For a brief second he thought of just sending her the gift anonymously and be done with it. She'd get her gift, but not the opportunity to turn him down. But he shook his head. Weird as it was, he wanted her to know it came from him, even if it got him killed. Like Alexx said, she might even like it. And if she did, he wanted credit for it.

Eric let out the billionth sigh of the day. Why did he have to get himself in this mess?

Suddenly he felt someone sit down next to him, letting out the same frustrated sigh. Eric glanced over to see Ryan there, staring at the lockers in front of him blankly.

"Hey," Eric said.

He received the same monotonous greet. "Hey."

Eric looked ahead once more, suddenly mildly amused by whatever it was Ryan was seeing. "Going home?"

"Yup," Ryan answered unenthusiastically. "You?"

"Yup."

Both men sighed in unison, shoulders hunched over, hands resting limply on the bench.

"Made any headway with Calleigh?" Ryan asked without so much as turning his head.

"No," Eric replied. "Valera?"

"Nope."

Eric shook his head. "Women."

"Tell me about it," Ryan sighed. Silence joined them, but not stifling, comfortable. Hard to believe after Eric had reached the conclusion he would never have anything in common with Ryan. Not so much anymore.

Finally, Ryan turned to Eric. "Wanna go get hammered?"

"Already there," Eric replied.

Ryan nodded. "Nice."

"Yeah." After another brief silence, Eric glanced at his watch and stood up. "Alright, see ya tomorrow."

"Thanks for listening," Ryan said.

"Yeah, good talk."

Without much fanfare, Eric was gone. But Ryan stayed behind, still staring at the same spot on the locker in front of him. He knew it was time to go home, but what was the point? Not like he would be able to sleep anyway, knowing Valera would probably be in her own apartment, throwing darts at a picture of him and chanting hate hymns.

He sighed again. Why did he have to get himself into this mess? Twenty four hours ago, life was beautiful. He was enjoying his new job and everybody liked him. And now Valera had a bounty on his head. Funny how quickly things could change.

Really, it was all Eric's fault. If he hadn't gotten Calleigh that stupid present, none of this would've happened. Scratch that, the fault lay on whoever thought of doing this Secret Santa deal in the first place. Who plays this game after graduating from elementary school? Now he was stuck having to buy a present for a woman who hated him and would surely hate whatever he would end up buying her.

'Tis the season.

He stood up and walked towards his locker, getting his jacket and leaving his lab coat inside. Reluctantly, he closed the tiny door and made his way out. Time to lay his head down on the guillotine and scream for mercy.

Again.

-

Valera impatiently waited in front of the centrifuge as it spun its contents round and round. Frustrated, she looked at the clock on the wall. Just thirty more minutes and she'd be home free. Not that it mattered anyway, because one of Horatio's hobbies seemed to be waiting until the very last minute of her shift before jumping in front of her with more evidence to process. She was beginning to wonder if he either trusted her, and only her, to process his samples or just really, really resented her.

Finally, the machine came to a stop. Valera began to remove one of the test tubes when out of the corner of her eye she caught a tiny flicker of white. She turned her head to see a handkerchief floating up and down, the person responsible for it hiding, only a suspiciously clean hand showing. Valera sighed loudly and went back to work.

"I come in peace."

She didn't have to wait for vocal confirmation to know it was Ryan, who, after all, was possibly the only person under the age of sixty five to own a handkerchief. Valera frowned. "There's a surveillance camera in this room, you're safe."

"Good," Ryan said as he stepped inside the lab. With a timid smile on his face, he approached Valera carefully. "What are you doing?"

Valera narrowed her eyes and looked at him. "I don't know, Ryan. What am I doing?"

"Looks like you're testing blood samples," Ryan said cheekily.

"Well, you just answered your own question, then," Valera added with a fake smile, going back to her samples. "If you're looking for your results, I put them in the outbox six hours ago."

"Yeah, Carrie paged me."

"Okay."

He frowned. Oh yeah, she was definitely still pissed. He didn't have to know her all that well to recognize the passive aggressive tone. Maybe he didn't know women as well as Delko, but female passive aggressiveness was the universal symbol for intense disdain. That's something his father taught him at a young age.

His father also taught him to always walk away and let things cool off, but his father never suffered from obsessive compulsiveness, either.

So despite his better judgment, he sighed and pressed on. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? I don't know how many times I have to apologize before you forgive me."

"I'm not in the mood, Ryan. So if you're worried about your safety, you should probably leave now," she said.

"I'll switch with someone else, you'll never know whom. That way you'll still be surprised."

"Oh, forget it," Valera said dismissively. "It's just a stupid game."

"Yeah, but if it's important to you—"

"It's not."

"Okay," Ryan sighed.

She didn't say anything else and he just stood there, watching her work. Partly because it was nearly hypnotizing; partly because he knew it would piss her off. But then he remembered Valera wasn't Carrie, she could pretty much ignore him even if he started shooting at her. The whole building could collapse right now and as long as there was work to be done, Valera wouldn't even notice. God, she was weird.

He didn't have to wait long, though, because she suddenly frowned and looked at him. "You were waving your handkerchief around in the DNA lab."

Ryan shrugged his shoulders. "Yeah, so?"

"So, in your little obsessive compulsive world isn't that the sordid equivalent of drinking sewer water?" Valera teased, eyes back on the blood. "Some bacteria do travel by air, you know."

Ryan narrowed his eyes and looked at her suspiciously. "You're not scaring me with that."

Valera smiled. "Yes I am. You'll probably burn it as soon as you walk out."

"No I won't."

"You're probably trying to remember who smokes so you can borrow their lighter right now, aren't you?"

"Alright, so maybe I will burn it," Ryan exclaimed. "I mean, I wasn't going to but now that you suggested it, I guess I'll be one handkerchief short. Are you happy?"

"I'm always happy when you're miserable," Valera joked.

Ryan rolled his eyes. "You might wanna start printing the invitations to the party, then."

"I think I will," Valera replied.

Ryan smiled when she smiled. So, she was laughing at him. At least she was smiling with him, as well. And smiling was definitely better than the death stare. Could that possibly be a light at the end of the tunnel?

He took a deep breath. "So, am I forgiven?"

"Yeah, yeah, go away," Valera said dismissively.

"Great," Ryan smiled from ear to ear; feeling like the weight of the world had been lifted off his shoulders.

"See you tomorrow," Valera said.

"Yeah," Ryan said, reluctantly tapped the table a couple of times, for some strange reason, and walked out. Once outside, though, he stopped, frowned, and quickly walked back into the lab, by her side again in a fraction of a second. "Can I ask you a personal question?"

Valera almost jumped, startled. Caught off guard, she looked up at him. "Uh, okay."

"What's your name?"

She frowned. "What's my name?"

"Yeah," Ryan said. "I've been working here for three months and I don't know your name. That can't be good, right?"

Valera stared at him, confused. "I guess."

"Me too." Ryan pointed at her lab coat. "So, that M, what does it stand for?"

She smiled, shook her head, and went back to work. "It's a secret."

"A secret?"

"Yeah," she said.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean nobody knows; it's a secret," Valera replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world and he was an idiot for not knowing that.

Ryan rolled his eyes. "You're teasing me again."

"Honest," Valera said. "I mean, Horatio knows, obviously, because he hired me. But nobody else does."

"Seriously?" Ryan asked, his eyebrows furrowed.

"Yeah," Valera replied. "There's a pool going around, if you wanna take a guess. I think Miriam is winning by two hundred bucks."

"Miriam?" Ryan grimaced and narrowed his eyes. "You don't look like a Miriam."

"I guess to the clueless I do," Valera replied.

Ryan smiled, watching as she wrote things on tiny labels and taped them to the test tubes. "So you're not gonna tell me?"

Valera shook her head. "Nope."

"Why not?"

"Because I like that nobody knows. Makes me feel important," Valera replied.

"That's silly."

"No it's not. If I tell you, you'll tell everyone, and in a week nobody will even notice I'm alive anymore."

Ryan frowned and shook his head. That made absolutely no sense, but he figured it was another one of those weird things that defined Valera. Maybe he should start getting used to them, now that she wasn't planning on killing him anymore.

So he dismissed her silly theory with a wave of his hand. "Well, even if I knew, you'd still be important to me."

Whoa. What the hell was _that_?!

Either the building was on fire, or alarm bells had gone off in his head. Pretty much immediately, his mind started heckling him.

Had he actually said that out loud?

Probably, yes, because she was looking at him with an expression of pure shock on her face and Ryan wasn't aware of much except he was pretty sure it mirrored his own. And then there was pounding in his chest and his extremities were cold and she was still looking at him with an inquisitive look on her face and he had _no_ idea what to say or do, wanted to run but doubted he could. The seconds seemed to stretch into hours and she wasn't saying anything and neither was he, and for someone who could concentrate so well on her job, she sure wasn't paying much attention to it now. And after the alarm bells stopped ringing there wasn't much going on in his mind except for someone frantically shouting, "_Abort_!"

Sounded suspiciously like Delko.

So he tried to back out of it as gracefully as he could.

"I mean, uh," he chuckled nervously, suddenly unable to look her in the eyes, "everybody around here depends on you, right?"

"Right," Valera said just as awkwardly, suddenly remembered her work and clumsily began to put the test tubes in the centrifuge _again_.

"Yeah. So... I don't think they'll... forget you like that," Ryan said and immediately chastised himself. Could that sentence have been _any_ lamer?

His eyes were suddenly on the test tubes as well. Thank God they were there as a distraction. She didn't say anything and it kinda felt like all those times she ignored him but he knew she really wasn't. And despite the tiny whir of the centrifuge, the silence was beginning to suffocate him. So was his sudden proximity to her, which hadn't been an issue just a minute ago. So he nodded and cleared his throat. "Anyway—"

"I have to finish this," Valera said, looking at him for a millisecond before looking down again.

"Okay, yeah, sorry," Ryan said. Universal signal for 'please leave'. He didn't have to know her well to recognize that one, as well. "Well, um... good night."

"Night, Ryan," Valera said, eyes still glued to her samples.

Ryan allowed himself to look at her one last time and he was pretty sure he had never seen Valera so uncomfortable in his life. Not that he had known her that long, but usually _she_ made people uncomfortable, not the other way around. And the fact that he wasn't moving probably wasn't helping much. Not that he didn't want to, just didn't know if he _could_.

So he wiggled his toes first. Yeah, his toes were working. Okay. One step at a time. Moved his left foot. Yeah, his feet were working, too. So he turned around and started walking, not very steadily, but walking nonetheless.

Behind him, the centrifuge stopped whirring. And for some reason, probably not wanting to go home and leaving Valera all spooked, he stopped and turned around, eyes narrowed. "Is it Monica?"

Valera chuckled once and Ryan thought he could see some of the tension ease away; that made him feel much better.

"Nope."

He smiled playfully. "Molly, Michelle, Maxine?"

"Nope, nope, and nope."

"Tell me," he kinda begged.

She shook her head. "Sorry."

Ryan sighed humorously. "Okay, be that way. I'll still figure it out, though."

"Good luck," she said.

Ryan smiled to himself. She looked at him briefly, still smiling, and he thought he could see a little red hue on her cheeks. Something told him that one mirrored his own as well.

He didn't really say goodbye, just walked out of there as fast as he could. And it wasn't until he was outside that Ryan realized he had been holding his breath the whole time. For so long he was sure it had caused brain damage. Yes, it had to have caused brain damage because he wasn't entirely sure, but he thought he had spent the last ten minutes of his life _flirting_ with Valera. DNA analyst Valera, who, twenty four hours ago, despised his guts.

And now... his hands were sweaty. Maybe because he was still wearing his gloves, but he was sure that was only one of the reasons. People were beginning to stare, probably wondering if he was having a panic attack. What's worse is he wasn't sure he'd be able to deny that if they asked.

Not good. Not good _at all_.


	6. You Can Always Switch to Plan B

**How to Slide Down Horatio Caine's Chimney in 10 Easy Steps**  
by Carolina

The 23rd of December. T minus one day. Mission status: in need of a divine intervention.

After a very troubled, sleepless night, Eric arrived at work, feeling desperately hopeless again. He found his car in the same spot he left it the night before, and after grabbing a couple of things from the trunk, he began to walk towards the lab when suddenly a figure jumped next to him, making him reach for his gun.

"Hey," Valera exclaimed, holding her hands in the air. "Is this how you say good morning?"

Eric breathed a sigh of relief, removing his hand off the holster. "You scared the crap out of me!"

"Sorry," Valera chucked. "You look like hell, by the way."

"Thank you," Eric replied. "Is there a reason why you're lurching around the parking lot like some sort of deranged stalker?"

"Aren't all stalkers deranged?" Valera asked. "Well, Calleigh should know if _you_ are."

"Ha ha," Eric grumbled.

Valera grinned. "No, no special reason. I got your information, though."

Eric stopped walking and stared at her disbelievingly. "You did?"

"Yeah," Valera said, frowning at the look on his face. "Why, you didn't think I could do it?"

"No, believe me, if I have faith in something it's your amazing meddling powers," Eric said. "You just threw a hissy there; I didn't think you'd do me the favor."

Valera rolled her eyes. "Yeah, well, I changed my mind."

"Okay, so who got Calleigh?"

Valera sighed. "Well, I hope you like it when things come full circle, because Calleigh's Secret Santa would be the one and only: Horatio Caine."

Eric's face fell. "No."

"Yes."

"No!"

"Yes!"

"How?" Eric sighed.

"Well, he probably reached into that little velvet bag—"

"Valera," Eric exclaimed and covered his face with his hands, letting out a frustrated grunt.

Valera sighed as well. "Well, talk to him, be reasonable. Maybe he'll switch."

Eric gave her a ridiculous look. "Yeah, I'm sure when I tell him I got _him_ in the draw he'll be super excited about the prospect of spending an entire afternoon at a department store, looking for the perfect gift for _himself_!"

Valera grimaced. "Oh, that's right."

"Yes," Eric said, let out a sigh and began his walk towards the lab again. "Well, it was worth a shot. Thanks anyway."

"What? What are you doing? Don't give up!" Valera said.

"I might as well. There's no way Horatio's gonna break his own rules, he'll probably ban me from town for even suggesting it," Eric said.

Valera frowned at him. "Why do you have to be so Charlie Brownish all the time? Why can't you just be a man and ask him?"

Eric rolled his eyes. "Horatio's not a woman, Valera."

"Oh, what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It means his reaction is not going to be 'Oh, goodie! A chance to play Cupid! Stay right there, Eric, let me go get my wings and arrows'," Eric mocked. "His reaction is going to be 'get the fuck back to work before I fire your ass for wasting my time with all this Secret Santa bullshit!'"

Valera blinked. "Okay, the anger? Not very sexy."

Eric just made a weird grunting sound, waved his arm at her dismissively and walked away.

Valera followed. "I still think you should just give it to her. I don't know why you can't trust me with that."

"It's not that I don't trust you. I just don't trust Calleigh's reaction," Eric said.

Valera nodded. "So you're scared."

"I'm not... okay, maybe a little." Valera chuckled and he frowned at her. "Well I'm glad my predicament is amusing you so much."

"No, I think it's cute," Valera said. "Kinda sad, but cute."

"I can always count on you to pick me up when I'm down, Valera," Eric said sarcastically.

"You know you can," Valera said. They kept walking in silence, until suddenly Valera stopped. "I got it."

"What?"

"I got it," she smiled. "All you have to _do_ is find out who got Yelina and switch. If you go to Horatio and tell him you have Yelina, I'm sure he's gonna switch you for Calleigh."

Eric stared at her for a moment, going over the plain in his head, but then quickly dismissed the idea. "That's not gonna work."

"I'm _sure_ it'll work!"

"It's not gonna work," Eric repeated. "He may not respect other people's rules, but he wouldn't break his own."

"For Yelina he would," Valera said.

Eric shook his head. "Well, it's all moot anyway because I don't know who got Yelina and I don't have time to play investigator again."

"You _are_ an investigator," Valera retorted. "And anyway, you don't have to, because when you request my services, you get full satisfaction, guaranteed."

Eric raised his eyebrows. "You know who got Yelina?"

Valera smiled. "Frank was sitting next to Calleigh. I happened to take a peak."

"Frank?" Eric asked.

"Tripp," she added.

Eric looked hopeful for a second, but then sighed again. "No, Valera, come on. This is too complicated. I just give up."

"No!" Valera shrieked. "You can't give up, Eric. You're so close!"

Eric frowned. "What do you care if I succeed or not?"

Valera shook her head. "Because your suicidal depiction of The Grinch on expired Prozac is ruining Christmas for everybody. And because Calleigh is my friend, and I want her to have what she wants this Christmas."

"I didn't tell you what I got her," Eric said.

Valera stared at him disbelievingly and then raised her eyebrows. "Wow."

"What?" Eric exclaimed.

"Forget it, none of my business," she said. "Just talk to Frank, he's a hell of a lot easier to deal with than Horatio."

Eric sighed. "Fine."

"Great," Valera grinned.

Eric looked at her and smiled. "Why are you so chirpy today?"

Valera instinctively blushed. "No reason."

"Uh huh." Eric gave her a playful look and wrapped his arm around her shoulders as they walked. "Are you sure?"

Valera smiled. "What? Just because you're miserable doesn't mean the rest of us have to be miserable, too."

"Good point," Eric said; a mischievous smile appeared on his face. "So what's the young man's name?"

"Stop."

"Okay, okay," Eric chuckled. "Are you bringing him home for Christmas?"

"Oh, jeez," Valera said, rolling his eyes.

"See how it feels?" Eric asked as they reached the building, he opened the door for her.

Valera rolled her eyes. "I'm sure I'm not _that_ annoying."

"Yeah, guess again," Eric teased.

They made their way through the lobby, greeting a couple of acquaintances as they passed them by, got in the elevator and quickly reached the lab.

"Well, well, well," Valera joked when she saw Calleigh standing by the front desk.

"Not a _word_, Valera," Eric grunted at her and then brightly smiled at Calleigh.

"Hey, guys," Calleigh greeted, joining them on their walk to the locker room.

"Hey, Cal," Eric said, trying to sound as normal as he could, though he had learned long ago there is no such thing as 'normal' when Calleigh is around. There's pathetic, there's sad, there's confusion, there's pathetic again, but no normal.

"We were _just_ talking about you," Valera said, ignoring Eric's immediate threatening glare.

"Really?" Calleigh smiled. "All good things, I hope."

"Good things, always good things," Eric said, feeling... well, pathetic. There it is again. Didn't help that Valera seemed to be mouthing something at him he couldn't understand, though he got the feeling he didn't have to. And then Tyler whisked by them, humming I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus and Eric wasn't sure, but he thought he recognized a taunting tone in his voice.

First two names on his revenge list – Tyler and Valera.

They finally reached the locker room, Calleigh and Valera yapping about something or other all the way, and they went to their respective lockers to get ready for the day.

As Calleigh put her lab coat on, she turned to Valera. "Did you get it?"

"Not yet," Valera replied.

"Get what?" Eric asked from the bench he was sitting on.

"My, aren't we nosy today," Calleigh teased.

"Sorry," Eric said, forcing his attention to return to his shoe laces.

Valera shook her head. "Last week I was helping my mom decorate her tree and I accidentally broke her precious Christmas angel. Now she won't talk to me, which actually I find very refreshing. But she's had that angel forever, I feel bad."

Eric had lost interest in the conversation even before Valera finished talking. Calleigh started naming places where Valera could find a nice angel, but Eric was more interested in what Valera had said to him just a few minutes before. Switch with Frank, and then switch with Horatio. He still wasn't sure it would work. Frank easier to deal with than Horatio? Valera obviously hadn't spent a lot of time with Frank. Valera obviously had never been stuck in a patrol car with Frank as he went on and on about that 'bitch' mother in law of his, and how his children kept trying to screw him over... Maybe Horatio would just yell at him for a couple of seconds. On a bad day, Frank could snap his legs in four before Eric knew what hit him.

"Anyway," Calleigh said as she shut her locker door close, snapping Eric out of his reverie, "I'll see you guys later."

"Bye," Valera said.

"See you later," Eric added and watched her go.

Jesus Christ, what the hell. Maybe Frank would break his legs, but it would definitely be worth it if he could make Calleigh smile at him like that.

His body suddenly jumped and his eyes instinctively closed when a white light went off in front of him.

"Hey!" he protested.

"Here," Valera said.

Eric opened his watered eyes briefly to grab whatever it was she was giving him.

"Now you can see what you look like when she's around."

"Are you crazy?" Eric exclaimed, looking at the Polaroid, which was still all black.

Valera put the camera back in her locker and closed it. "You don't believe me? Now you have visual proof. Have a good day!"

Eric frowned as he watched her go. He looked at the picture. It was still black, so he closed his own locker as he mumbled something under his breath, and on his way out, threw the picture in the trash can.

Halfway to the break room, though, he turned around and went back to dig the picture out. The last thing he needed at the moment was for someone to find it, make copies of it, and paste it all over the lab; give people yet another reason to laugh at him.

He tried to tear it, but the plastic wouldn't give in. Any second now and the picture would clear, and he certainly didn't want to look at what he was sure was the stupidest expression on his face. So he rushed towards his locker, opened it, and threw the picture inside.

Mental note – move Valera's name to the top of his revenge list.


	7. Up on the Housetop, Walk Carefully

**How to Slide Down Horatio Caine's Chimney in 10 Easy Steps**  
by Carolina

Coffee. He needed coffee.

Ignoring all his coworkers glances, paranoia was starting to rear its ugly head, Eric headed straight towards the break room. Maybe that had been his first mistake. Coffee comes first, coffee always comes first. Doing anything before ingesting caffeine, even something as inconsequential as opening one's eyes, is just plain stupid.

He rubbed his eyes and blinked hard a couple of times, but that spot caused by the flash of Valera's camera was still there. Hey, not that he would need his eyes today for anything. He was only a _scientist_, after all. Valera would get hers, though. He was sure of that and just the thought of it made him smile.

Eric pushed the door to the break room open, and really, nothing should've surprised him anymore, but he still jumped when he felt something wet and gooey hit him square on the chest.

"Oh my God, Eric," Carrie exclaimed, her eyes the size of watermelons. "I'm so sorry!"

Eric remained frozen. "Do I have a kick me sign tattooed on my forehead?"

"No," Carrie said innocently.

"Then what the hell," Eric exclaimed, looking down at his shirt.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't see you," Carrie said apologetically, a hand covering her mouth as if she had committed a felonious crime.

One look at her face and Eric instantly felt bad. It was practically impossible to get mad at Carrie Delgado. She was like a cute little tiny kitten. If anything, her cuteness just made him smile. So he sighed indignantly and shook his head good naturedly. "Don't worry about it."

"I'm so sorry," Carrie continued anyway.

"Hey, it's just a shirt. I've got more at home." Eric looked down at the mess and touched the white substance, bringing his fingers to his nose to smell it. "What is it?"

"It's snow," Carrie said as she hurried to the sink to soak a paper towel in water.

Eric furrowed his eyebrows. "Snow?"

"Snow in a can," Carrie said. "I was decorating the break room; I swear I didn't see you."

"Ah, so it's you who's responsible for all those annoying Christmas decorations around the lab," Eric said as he approached the sink. He looked at her hurt expression, and quickly retrieved. "Did I say annoying? I meant endearing."

Carrie smiled dryly as she began to rub away the snow on Eric's shirt; a damp spot immediately appeared on it. "Well, I seem to be the only one who cares about Christmas around here."

"That's not true," Eric said, "Yesterday I saw Horatio admiring your beautiful display by the men's bathroom."

Carrie gave him a disbelieving look. "He was trapped in a tinsel web. It took three security guards to untangle him."

Eric laughed heartedly. "Hey, trust me, after the day I had yesterday I needed the laugh."

Carrie only allowed herself to smile, fearing the repercussions of openly laughing at Horatio, even if he wasn't around. You never know when he might suddenly appear in front of you. When the fake snow was gone from Eric's shirt, she hesitantly pointed at a spot near his neck. "You've got some on your... undershirt, there."

He looked down and thoughtlessly began to unbutton his shirt. Carrie took one step back, uncomfortable by the sight of Eric Delko down to a tee in front of her, and handed him another paper towel. That he would have to do on his own.

Eric put his shirt to the side, hoping it would dry quickly, and began to clean his undershirt and neck. He heard the door open and looked up to catch Carrie's eyes widening again. Eric looked back and saw Calleigh by the door, a curious expression on her face.

"Hey, Cal," he said noncommittally and continued to rub the moist towel on his tee.

Hand still on the doorknob, Calleigh looked at the scene in front of her and frowned slightly. "What's going on?"

"I was attacked with snow in a can," Eric replied without looking up.

Calleigh narrowed her eyes. "Snow in a can?"

"It was an accident," Carrie added, sounding a lot more serious than Eric had. "I was spraying it on the window and he walked in and I didn't see him and I kinda... sprayed it on him. It was an accident."

Eric chuckled. "It's okay, Carrie, it's not like you shot my dog."

That didn't seem to calm Carrie, though. Looking like she was about to cry, she grabbed the remaining of her Christmas decorations and quickly whisked past Calleigh, muttering an unsteady, "I have to get back to work."

When she was gone, Eric looked at Calleigh and shook his head. "She is way too sensitive."

"Uh huh," Calleigh said. Arms suddenly crossed in front of her, she walked over to stand in front of him. "Where's your shirt?"

Eric pointed at a nearby chair. "Over there."

Calleigh looked at the shirt, specifically at the damp spot on it, and pursed her lips. On the counter sat the infamous can of 'snow', and she picked it up to inspect it closely.

"It's not toxic, is it?" Eric asked.

Morning cheerfulness gone, Calleigh looked at him briefly, put the can back on the counter, and muttered an unfriendly, "you'll live," before she walked away.

Eric's eyes followed her as she left the break room, the door closing behind her with a non scandalous but definitely noticeable slam.

Oookay.

Shaking his head in confusion, he threw the paper towel away, wondering who was the poor, miserable, but definitely stupid, soul who had managed to piss Calleigh off five minutes into her shift. He briefly thought about following her to make sure she was okay, but he knew he would somehow manage to say something stupid and get himself into trouble. It would be best to let her cool off.

So he reached for his special blend in the cupboard. If it wasn't for his dear, precious coffee, he wasn't sure he'd be able to bear all of this. Just the smell was enough to put him in an elated, almost orgasmic ecstasy, no matter how chaotic the atmosphere surrounding him was. As he waited for the coffee to brew, he picked up the scraps of a newspaper someone had left behind and sat by the table, going over the day's least coveted news.

The water in the coffee maker had just begun to boil when suddenly the door opened and closed again, this time with a definite loud boom.

Eric looked up. Not Calleigh, but Ryan, looking like death going through heroine withdrawals.

"You and your _stupid_ assumptions!" Ryan shouted.

None threatened, Eric smiled and his eyes returned to the newspaper. "Funny, I always figured you for a morning person."

Ryan walked over, taking long, aggressive steps, and sat next to Eric. "Ask me if I had a good night. Go ahead."

Eric frowned. "Did you have a good night, Ryan?"

"Well, funny you should ask, Delko. No, I didn't. Now ask me why!"

"Why?" Eric asked tentatively.

"Because of you," Ryan said accusatorily. "You and your _stupid_ assumptions."

"You already said that part," Eric said, concentrating on the newspaper again.

"Oh, this is funny to you, isn't it?" Ryan said viciously.

"Would you calm down," Eric exclaimed. A strong smell of coffee filled the room and he stood up. "Here, have some coffee."

"I don't want your coffee," Ryan said stubbornly. "I want you to take it back, everything you said about Valera."

Eric smiled knowingly. "Oh, _Valera_."

"You had _no_ right telling me that," Ryan said sharply.

Eric poured two cups of coffee and walked back to the table, handing one to Ryan. "What? That she likes you?"

"Yes... _that_," Ryan said. "It was completely unfounded and a shameless violation of her privacy."

"Well, first of all, she didn't tell me anything, I was just guessing. So technically I didn't violate her privacy," Eric said. "And second, so you know she likes you, what's the difference? I thought you didn't like her."

"I didn't!" Ryan huffed.

Eric raised one eyebrow. "You didn't or you don't?"

The anger in Ryan's eyes was quickly replaced by panic. "I don't know."

Eric chuckled again and took a sip of his coffee.

"Oh yeah, very funny. I didn't get any sleep last night, ha ha, hilarious!" Ryan said sarcastically.

Eric smiled. "I'm not laughing at you, Melvin. I think it's great."

"What?" Ryan asked incredulously.

"I think it's nice," Eric said. "You and Valera. Who knows, she might be the one."

"The _one_?" Ryan said overdramatically. "You have met her, right?"

"Yes, I have met her. I've known her longer than you, actually," Eric said and shrugged his shoulders. "So, she's a little... eccentric."

"She's a freak!"

"She's also caring, smart, cheerful," Eric said. "You could use some sparkle in your life."

"Jesus Christ," Ryan said, covering his face with his hands.

Eric frowned at him. "Hey, at least you know where you stand with Valera. I have to sit in a proverbial corner and wait for infrangibly scarce signals like fucking Helen Keller."

Ryan breathed in and out loudly and leaned back on his chair, staring at his steaming cup of coffee, liking the way it calmed him down tremendously. "We're pathetic, did you know that?"

"Yes, it's been made clear to me about eight hundred times in the last thirty six hours," Eric said, reading the newspaper.

Ryan sighed. "I'm her Secret Santa, too. Now I don't know what to get her. Everything's either too personal, or not personal enough..." he shook his head, trying to put it out of his mind. "What'd you get Calleigh?"

Eric finished drinking his coffee and pushed the cup away. "1938 Luger."

"Nice," Ryan nodded. "If I gave Valera a gun she'd probably turn around and shoot me with it," he bemused.

"Oh, I'm pretty sure that's what Calleigh's gonna do," Eric said.

"You better not load it beforehand."

"Way ahead of you."

"Yeah."

Both men sighed simultaneously.

"Whose idea was it to do this Secret fucking Santa, anyway?" Eric suddenly asked.

"I don't know," Ryan said. "But for their safety, I better not find out."

Eric nodded in agreement, feeling mellow. At least he had someone to wallow in misery with. It could be a cold and lonely place. Ryan seemed to be going through what Eric liked to call The Wretchedness of Falling for a Friend, Stage Two: Denial. Luckily, Eric's train had left that station long ago and he was indifferently settled on Stage Five: Quiet Desperation, which he was sure would be inevitably followed by Stage Six: Outward Displays of Mental Malaise, and then finally Stage Seven: Disgruntled Postal Worker Disorder.

At least he'd be on the news.

"What do you think her name is?" Ryan suddenly asked, staring at the coffee's steam as if in a trance.

Eric looked at him. "Valera?"

"Yeah."

"Who knows," Eric said, stood up, and began to put his shirt on, stained despite Carrie's best efforts. "I got 20 bucks on Miriam."

Ryan frowned.

"Anyway," Eric added, putting his empty cup in the sink. "I'll see you later."

Ryan looked back. "Where are you going?"

"I gotta go whore myself to Frank for a couple of hours," Eric said.

"Have fun," Ryan said indifferently, his forehead hit the table as soon as the door closed.


	8. Approach the Chimney Cautiously

**How to Slide Down Horatio Caine's Chimney in 10 Easy Steps**  
by Carolina

Eric walked into the police station behind a large cop who was dragging a prostitute inside while she shouted obscenities at the sky. Eric thought this woman must have been in her sixties, at least. Her hair was messed around, her make up was all over the place and he didn't wanna look at her long enough, but he was sure she was missing half her teeth.

Gross.

"What are you looking at, candy ass?" she suddenly asked, giving Eric a spiteful look.

Eric shook his head and raised his hands as politely as he could. "Nothing."

"You look like you could use a good time," she said, suddenly grinning. "Wanna meet me out back in an hour?"

Eric grimaced, feeling the vomit practically in his mouth already.

"Dammit, Marla, stop traumatizing the kid," the burly cop said and dragged her away.

As the litany of obscenities began again, Eric's eyes scanned the room for Frank Tripp. Didn't take very long to spot him, seeing as Frank was probably tallest standing structure in the Miami-Dade area. He stood near his desk, phone pinned between his ear and shoulder, looking tense. But that was nothing out of the ordinary. Frank always looked tense. Frank always made people around him feel tense, too.

Eric took a deep breath and let it out, cracked his fingers, and moved his shoulders around in circles like he was about to step into the ring for a long boxing round. Well, say the wrong thing to Frank and the simile could become a reality in a heartbeat. It wasn't the fact that Frank had a gun that made people anxious. It was the fact that Frank didn't _need_ to use his gun very often that made people anxious.

He approached him from behind, taking note of all the emergency exits and calculating how long it would take him to run towards the nearest one as a maddening Frank chased him like a giant ball would to an Indiana Jones. Frank seemed to be in the middle of a work related conversation, and Eric waited until the older man sounded most relaxed to take one last step forward.

"Uh, Frank?"

"What?!" Frank barked.

"Nothing," Eric whimpered, turned around and walked out of there as fast as he could.

Okay, _not_ very graceful. Not particularly manly, either, but he valued his life too much to see it end in the hands of Frank Tripp as a bunch of cops cheered in the background and threw their donuts at him. If he was gonna die, he was gonna die with dignity, even if he felt everything but proud of himself at the moment.

Lucky for him and his reputation, nobody seemed to notice him as he walked out, not even Frank, who was now on his way to interrogate a suspect like nothing had happened, probably because he never heard Eric behind him and had barked at the person he was talking on the phone to, rather than at the CSI himself.

Once outside, another litany of curses began, but this time they didn't come from Marla the decaying prostitute. With the exchange of gifts taking place tomorrow, Eric was pretty sure this mission had been nothing but a waste of time and a testament of just how pathetic he actually was. Not that he needed proof anyway, but he was sure this time he'd set a new record. He hoped his ancestors weren't actually watching him from the heavens right now, because he was sure this would give them enough reason to disown him even from the great beyond.

Stupid, stupid, _stupid_!

As he hit his head against the station's cement pillars over and over again, hoping it would cause brain damage and erase the last five minutes of his life from his memory, a suspiciously clean car suddenly parked in front of him and the famous dark curls of Yelina Salas stepped out of it. She proceeded to help a fellow cop drag a suspect out of the back seat and towards the station.

Eric grinned and walked over to meet her halfway.

"Hey, Lina, you got a minute?"

"Eric, sure." Yelina smiled and turned to her partner. "Take him in; I'll be there in five minutes." She watched them go inside and looked at Eric. "What can I do for you?"

"I was just wondering who you got in the Secret Santa draw," he asked coyly.

Yelina frowned at him. "Isn't that supposed to be a secret?"

"Not really," Eric said. "I think they cared more for alliteration than accuracy when naming the game. You know these things lose their actual meaning when they're translated over and over again through the centuries? Like the bible."

"But isn't it an American game?" Yelina said suspiciously, her accent less thick than usual. "Because Horatio said—"

"Yeah, don't worry about Horatio," Eric said playfully. "He's just a little misguided."

Yelina chuckled. "I'm sure he would love to hear that."

"I'm sure he wouldn't, so let's not tell him," Eric said and smiled. "So?"

Shaking her head, Yelina reached into her pocket and showed him the tiny piece of paper. "Alexx Woods."

"Alexx," Eric repeated the name, going through some more calculations in his head. Horatio probably wouldn't switch him Calleigh for Alexx, but at least he wouldn't be stuck having to buy a present for the boss. Plus, he was pretty sure there was something between Horatio and Yelina neither of them seemed to have the guts to start. Who knows, maybe this would give them the little push they needed? An otherwise selfish act might actually give birth to a good deed. Yeah, definitely a no brainer.

"Is that all?" Yelina asked.

"Not quite," Eric said and reached into his pocket to retrieve a similar piece of paper. "See, I got Horatio and I can't really seem to find a gift he'd like, and since you know him better than I do, I thought maybe you'd like to switch with me?"

Yelina looked at the paper reluctantly, like she had a terribly important decision to make, but then shook her head. "I don't know, Eric."

"Come on, Yelina, my job is in jeopardy here," Eric begged. Over dramatization always worked with women.

But Yelina continued to shake her head regardless. "He is not going to fire you because you bought him a bad present."

"It wouldn't score me any points, either," Eric said. "Imagine it's time for him to promote someone, who do you think he's gonna choose? Ryan, the young, motivated, go getter; or Eric, the guy who got him a Chia Pet for Christmas?"

She let out a sigh, looking around before she finally caved in. "Okay."

Eric frowned. That was easy. Too easy. "Really?"

"Yes, you take Alexx, I'll take Horatio, you keep your job," she said, taking his piece of paper and handing him hers.

Eric smiled broadly, cradled her neck and kissed her cheek. "Thank you!"

"Just don't tell him I switched, okay?" Yelina said. "Horatio takes his games seriously."

"Yeah, we've never met," Eric said and winked at her. "Thanks, Yelina."

Yelina smiled and shook her head as she watched him go, and went inside the station.

--

Eric arrived at the lab feeling much better than when he had left. No, maybe he wouldn't get to be Calleigh's Secret Santa, but at least he wouldn't have to be Horatio's, either. The thought of it was enough to give him goosebumps. Hey, he loved Horatio as much as the next person, he was like a second father to Eric, but aimlessly walking around the mall as he tried to find a good gift for Horatio, which he was sure was something that didn't exist, was not his idea of a rewarding afternoon. Or a fun Christmas, for that matter. He could already see the look on Horatio's face when he opened up his gift, expecting something good and getting... the Clapper. Eric could also see himself on Christmas Day, clapping all the way to the unemployment office.

He would have to thank Yelina properly for this. Flowers, candy... a kidney, anything to show her his undying appreciation.

As he walked past the layout room, he spotted Calleigh inside, leaning into the table and examining a piece of clothing through a magnifying glass. He wondered if she was still pissed. He wondered _why_ she had been pissed. It wasn't like Calleigh to get worked up over nothing. And she had been her cheerfully self that morning, so maybe she received a bad phone call? It had to be something big.

So Eric opened the door hesitantly and stood by it. She didn't look up. "Hey."

She didn't look up at that, either, but replied noncommittally, "hey."

Not in a good mood, definitely, but not vengefully pissed, either. He decided to risk it and walk in. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to place this guy at my crime scene," Calleigh breathed.

"Any luck?" Eric asked, coming around to stand next to her.

"I just started," Calleigh said, eyes on her work the whole time.

Eric nodded and watched her work for a while. It was fascinating, seeing Calleigh submerge herself into her job. Her eyes got bright; a smile appeared on her face... she was like a kid in a candy store. Not now, though. Now she seemed completely alienated from the task in front of her. It was weird and a bit troubling. Very unlike the Calleigh he knew.

"Is everything okay?" he asked, not caring much for a potentially negative reaction.

Calleigh finally straightened up and looked at him questioningly, not an ounce of mirth in her features. "Why?"

"You just look a little... tense," Eric said. "Did something happen?"

Calleigh shook her head. She wanted to punch him and kick him and throw him out of the room, but something about his tone of voice, the concern in his eyes as well, made her soften up. So instead, waved her hand around dismissively and returned to her examination. "It's nothing."

Eric looked around the room before he hesitantly asked, "Is your dad okay?"

Calleigh was taken aback by the question. Shocked, really, to see him cross that line from friendly to downright intimate. Not that her father was a national secret, but everyone who knew her knew the topic of her father was absolutely off limits. Eric himself had been on the receiving end of a few of her lectures.

Did he _actually_ have a death wish or was he genuinely concerned?

Not knowing if she should feel touched that he cared or pissed that he had broken her sternest rule, Calleigh merely nodded. "Yeah, he's fine."

"Good," Eric said. Looking around the room, he spotted a chair in the corner and dragged it over, sat down and rested his elbows on the table, staring at the shirt she was examining.

Calleigh frowned. "Don't you have work to do?"

"Slow day," Eric replied.

Suddenly not knowing what to do with herself, unnerved by his presence, Calleigh sighed discretely. "Well, maybe Ryan needs help with his case?"

Eric looked up at her. "Are you throwing me out?"

"No, but I can't work with you sitting over there."

"Why? I won't say anything."

"I still know you're there," Calleigh said, magnifying glass still in hand, but forgotten. .

Eric shrugged his shoulders. "Pretend I'm not."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because I know you're there! I can see you, I can feel you; I can hear you breathing," Calleigh huffed, frustrated.

"Well, I _have_ to breathe. How else am I going to stay alive?" Eric teased.

"You won't stay alive much longer if you keep pestering me like this."

Eric straightened up. "I just wanna know why you're pissed."

"I'm not pissed!"

"You're pissed right now."

Calleigh rolled her eyes. "Because you won't let me do my job, yes, Eric, I am pissed right now."

"Why were you pissed this morning?"

Calleigh sighed. "Eric—"

Eric frowned. "Is it a guy?"

"Just drop it."

Eric stood up defiantly and reached for his gun. "Tell me who he is so I can kill him, and _then_ I'll leave you alone."

Calleigh scoffed. "First of all, how incredibly demeaning of you to think I would let myself get worked up over a man."

"Alright, I apologize," Eric said, taking his hand off the holster and sitting down again. A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He _loved_ to tease Calleigh.

"Second, if somehow a man was involved, what makes you think I couldn't take care of him myself?" she asked, eyebrows furrowed.

"I'm sure you're more than capable of taking care of him yourself, Calleigh, but that doesn't mean I wouldn't want to smack him around a little bit. In fact, I'd _need_ you there to hold him down for me," Eric said casually.

Calleigh's eyes widened and she shook her head disbelievingly. "Oh my God."

"What?" Eric said defensively. "If I had a girlfriend and she broke my heart, wouldn't you track her down and smack her around, too?" Suddenly, he smiled. "By the way, for the purposes of visual aid, feel free to embellish your response as vernacularly as you possibly can."

Calleigh shook her head. "You're disgusting."

Eric raised his eyebrows suggestively, speaking in a sexy tone. "What would you do to her?"

"And pathetic," Calleigh added, eyes glued to the shirt again, trying to ignore him but it was impossible.

"Would there be Jell-o involved?"

She was about to yell at him and throw something at his head, really, but then just shook her head and looked away, covering her mouth with her hand.

Eric followed her with his eyes, grinning. "Is that a smile I see?"

Calleigh looked down at the shirt again, trying to suppress a smile by biting on her lower lip. It wasn't working very well.

Eric laughed. "Never let it be said that my affinity for a good female on female Jell-o match never brightened your day."

"Yeah, you're a regular Mr. Rogers," Calleigh said sarcastically, grabbed a plastic bag with a pair of pants inside and threw it at him. "Here, make yourself useful."

Eric caught it in midair and reached for another magnifying glass, and the two settled on a comfortable silence as they searched for any traces of evidence on the suspect's clothes.

If there was one thing he loved about his job, among other things, it was working with Calleigh. Maybe it was the rose colored glasses talking, but he thought they made the best partners in the lab. There was something almost artistic about it, the way she would compliment his best abilities and vice versa. Like a tango, if he wanted to get particularly corny. She knew the things he didn't know and he knew the things she didn't. It never got competitive or malicious. Sure they bickered sometimes, but that only seemed to make them better partners. Unrequited love, and modesty, aside, Eric thought they were the best twosome working at the Miami-Dade lab.

But considering the massive exaggeration, the rose colored glasses were definitely speaking there. He was okay with that, really. The rest of his life was a sham, might as well lie to himself a bit. Just to cheer himself up.

The silence was eventually broken by Calleigh.

"What do you think I should get Sam?" she asked, hunched over the table still.

Eric looked up at her and frowned. "Why, why are you getting gifts for Sam?"

"I'm his Secret Santa," Calleigh said casually.

Eric rolled his eyes. Of course. Sam. Stupid Sam, with his sexy accent and his manly features, those warm eyes you could get yourself lost into on a cold, winter night... He shook his head, nearly slapping himself. That man had the entire lab on a curse! Just what he needed. Competition from his own geographical brother.

"How about a Chia Pet?" he replied bitterly.

Calleigh frowned at him, detecting a bit of cynicism. "I thought you liked Sam," she said. "Don't you guys hang out after work sometimes?"

Eric grimaced. "He's picked up this annoying little habit of talking about himself on second person. It's always, 'You can't catch a break, can you?' or, 'it's nice coming to work when you get all that attention,'" he mocked in a thick Spanish accent. "It's starting to get a little annoying."

"Huh," Calleigh said. "I've never heard him talk like that."

"Well, he does," Eric said.

Calleigh shrugged her shoulders and went back to work, ignoring his suddenly foul mood. Eric had been acting a little bit strange these past couple of days, nothing concerning, she thought, but he was definitely up to something.

They went back to work on the clothes, and the silence was broken a second time, but by Horatio, who stood by the door with his hands on his hips.

"Eric."

Both Eric and Calleigh jumped simultaneously; Eric nearly fell off his chair.

"A woman was trampled at a toy store by a crowd. Let's go," Horatio said intensely and walked away.

Eric sighed and stood up, pushing his work towards Calleigh's side of the table. "Well, I leave you with my pants. Zipper's a little tricky, so please be gentle."

Calleigh snickered. "Careful with those soccer moms, one of them attacked Frank yesterday."

"I'll use Horatio as a shield," he joked.

"Hey," Calleigh called him when he was outside, and struggled a bit with her words. "Thanks for the whole, you know..."

Eric smiled. "Cheering you up bit?"

"If you have to put it that way," Calleigh said. "I appreciate it."

"No problem," Eric winked and walked away, leaving her with his pants and a couple of red cheeks.

He found Horatio outside, warming up the Hummer and looking like he was about to go solve the case of Kennedy's assassination. Eric didn't share his enthusiasm. A city as big as Miami, and he was on his way to peel a woman off the floor of a Toys R Us. Meanwhile, he was sure Ryan was working the headlines. It really wasn't fair. He was gonna have to start watching that kid before he became Eric's boss.

But he didn't really mind it much as he jumped on the passenger seat. He had just made Calleigh happy and that was enough to send him on a blissful stupor. And if everything went according to plan, he would have her name on a little piece of paper by the end of the day... If he could just get the same crowd of Christmas shoppers to trample on Horatio instead.

Silently, Eric began to practice his, "He's got the last Elmo!" call.


	9. Make Sure the Fire's Not Burning

**How to Slide Down Horatio Caine's Chimney in 10 Easy Steps**  
by Carolina

"Jesus," Eric exclaimed as soon as he and Horatio arrived at the crime scene, crime scene being an understatement, since the whole place looked like the aftermath of a nuclear holocaust and all the survivors were on an uproar. Reporters stood outside, shouting questions at anyone who walked by, parents were shouting at other parents, children were crying, and the authorities were having a hard time holding everyone back. Eric immediately felt his adrenaline hit the roof. The scene in front of him was downright scary.

"Good thing it's the season to be jolly," Horatio quipped next to him.

Eric didn't say anything, merely jumped out of the Hummer and grabbed his kit and camera from the trunk; Horatio did the same. As they approached the scene they spotted Frank, who looked like he was five seconds away from making one of the parents crime scene number two.

"Over a fucking doll!" he shouted, hard to hear or be heard over the commotion, his arms rose as if he was conducting the crowd.

"What's going on?" Eric asked.

"Woman grabs the last toy, woman shouts I've got it, crowd goes crazy on woman, all hell breaks loose," Frank said. "Same as last week, same as the year before that... this is what Christmas is all about in suburbia, Charlie Brown."

"Where is she now?" Horatio asked, his eyes meticulously scanning the crowd.

"Woods is inside with her," Frank replied.

"Alright," Horatio said. "Do me a favor, Frank, why don't you gather everyone who was in the store at the time of the crime for questioning? They don't wanna cooperate; put them in the back of a police car."

Frank didn't ask any questions, merely grumbled something incoherent and walked away. Eric followed Horatio, until the older man pointed towards an ambulance that was parked not too far from the entrance. Eric had to practically force his way in and out of a small crowd of curious bystanders who were shaking their heads or in some cases shouting their disapproval at the big crowd of suspects. This was going to be a long, long, excruciating day, Eric thought.

He reached the ambulance and set his kit down, watching as a paramedic tenderly cared for a young boy.

"What have you got here?" he asked.

The paramedic looked up and frowned. "Who are _you_?" she asked with a twinge of attitude.

"Officer Delko, Miami-Dade crime lab," Eric said and showed her his badge.

"Oh," she said, unimpressed. "Elijah Harris, three years old, multiple bruising and a few minor scrapes, but other than that he's fine."

"Whose kid?" Eric asked.

The paramedic raised her eyebrows at him. "Victim's."

Eric mirrored her troubled expression for a second before he smiled at the little boy. "Hey, little man. My name's Eric, I'm a cop," he said, showing him his badge. "You wanna hold on to that for me for a while?"

Elijah grabbed the badge and looked at it, but the expression on his face remained mostly blank. Eric ruffled his hair. "Are you hurt, Elijah?"

"He doesn't say much," the paramedic said.

"Did you try getting the pacifier out of his mouth?" Eric asked.

The paramedic rolled her eyes. "Wow, you must be some sort of pediatric genius," she said sarcastically. "Of course I took it out, he still didn't talk. Either he's not saying much yet or he's probably in shock."

"Can you blame him?" Eric glanced quickly at Elijah's clothes, which were covered with spots of blood, and let out a sigh. "Are you done here?"

"He's all yours," the paramedic replied.

"Great," Eric said and reached for his kit. No sooner did he set it on the ambulance, though, when suddenly there was a roar behind him, the crowd shouted louder, and people started throwing things.

"Oh, jeez, where the hell is my partner?" the paramedic exclaimed.

"I'm gonna take this inside," Eric said. Grabbing Elijah and his kit, he attempted to get out of there as fast as he could

"Somebody's gonna want a copy of this report," the paramedic called after him.

"We'll pick it up later, just get out of there," Eric shouted.

He didn't wait to see if she drove out or not, it was hard enough trying to struggle his way through the mob as they pushed, shoved each other and shouted obscenities... what was _wrong_ with these people? Elijah's grip on his neck was so tight Eric was having a hard time trying to keep his breathing steady, but they eventually made it to the front of the store. One of the cops recognized him and ushered him inside.

"Eric," Horatio called out, rushing over. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Eric breathed. "But we're gonna need another coroner out there if we don't control that crowd soon."

Horatio looked outside, grimaced at the pandemonium, and finally noticed the tiny person in Eric's arms. "Is that the victim's son?"

"Yeah."

"Okay," Horatio sighed. "Start processing, I'm gonna have to call for backup. If you need anything, page me, I'll be outside."

"Good luck," Eric said, disappearing into the store. Thankfully, things were eerily calmed inside, as every cop available rushed outside to help the others wane the mob. The employees were all gathered in the break room, waiting to be questioned, and he carefully avoided running into Alexx, fearing Elijah's reaction if he saw his dead mother there. After wandering around for a bit, Eric finally found the bathroom. He checked to see if they were alone before setting Elijah on the porcelain counter, between two sinks.

Eric let out a sigh, hands resting on either side of the boy's thighs as he caught his breath. "That wasn't fun, huh?"

Elijah didn't reply, but still looked a little spooked, holding Eric's badge so tight his little fingers had turned paper white.

"Do me a favor when you grow up: shop online," Eric said, setting his kit on the counter, the camera next to it.

He fished a pair of latex gloves out of the kit and put them on, but scratched his forehead nervously before he started anything, wondering how on earth he was going to do this. Horatio was the pro with children, usually the one who rushed towards them before any of the other CSIs could. Eric's experiences with young victims mostly extended to post mortem processing, he had never tended to them while they were alive, and most definitely not while they were traumatized. He could deal with older children, he thought, but the tiny ones made him nervous. What if he broke him, or poked him too hard and he started crying? A kid crying, jeez. That had to be the _worst_ recorded sound since the invention of auditory nerves.

It was no wonder that at this point Elijah was doing much, much better than he was, following Eric's every move with his eyes, looking a bit curious, but mostly still blank. It was probably that silence that made Eric so nervous, not knowing what this kid was thinking, not knowing how this kid was going to react to... well, anything. A little too _Children of the Corn_-ish for his tastes, though Eric couldn't really blame him for choosing to block out what happened that morning. Mostly he didn't wanna do anything or say something that might trigger a bad memory and create a frantic reaction from this child. Again, not a big fan of the crying.

But hell, he had nieces and nephews. He would have to use his experiences with them to help him now. What did his nieces and nephews liked the most? Probably to sneak into Eric's room and play with all the instruments inside his kit. Eric sighed. There was nothing he hated the most than tiny little sticky hands playing with his expensive equipment. His sisters thought it was so cute they wanted to grow up to be like Uncle Eric, but not him, and definitely not the department every time he had to submit a bill for something little Diego or little Alejandra or little whatever-the-hell-the-other-three-were-called had broken. Not cute then, and the prospect of it happening again was irritating at best.

Where's Horatio when you actually need him?

It probably wasn't helping that the kid kept looking at him like Eric had told a bad joke and he was still waiting for the punch line.

"I know what I'm doing and I resent you looking at me like I'm some kind of idiot," he told Elijah, whose expression didn't change, looking at Eric in the eyes in a way that made him feel even more nervous. "Fine, so I don't know how to deal with babies. You still suck on your pacifier, so between you and me, me with a B.S. in Biology, and you with the limited knowledge of Sesame Street characters, I wouldn't be acting so superior if I were you."

There was no reply, something Eric was starting to get used to by now, and crossing his arms in front of him, he smiled proudly. "I stopped sucking on mine when I was two. The boogie man stole it. It's why I became a cop. Never did find it, though. The pacifier, not the boogie man... though I never found the boogie man, either. Of course, we didn't have pictures of the Cookie Monster on our pacifiers back then, ours were plain. Manly, if you will. I mean, no offense, but I don't think your mom would've splurged on those had she known what was going on between Bert and Ernie behind closed doors."

Eric stopped talking and just nodded for a while. "You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?"

No other response except a blink.

"That's okay, neither do I." Taking a deep breath, he picked up a couple of swabs. "So, here's what I'm gonna do. I'll share my toys with you, but only if you promise not to break them or get them sticky. We do that for each other and we'll get along just fine," Eric said and spent the next half hour searching for evidence in Elijah's clothes, hair, and skin, the catch being Elijah got to try all the instruments on Eric first, just so Eric could convince him they weren't going to hurt him.

And it wasn't as bad as he had expected, except when it was time to bag Elijah's clothes and take pictures of all the scrapes and bruises on his body. That's when it really hit him, what this kid had gone through that morning and why his mind had opted for shock rather than acceptance. Like the paramedic had said, there were just a couple of minor scrapes, barely noticeable, but the bruises were another thing. A few ones on his extremities and belly, but a particularly nasty one on his back. Eric wasn't entirely sure, but he thought it was taking the form of a shoe.

He shook his head and cursed silently, suddenly feeling a fiery anger inside. Like Frank had said, all over a fucking doll.

Eric smiled as best as he could when he was done and put the camera down. "There. That wasn't so bad, was it?"

Again, no response.

"Yeah, you're alright too," Eric said, resting his buttocks on the counter next to Elijah, who was down to his tiny briefs now, Eric's badge still in hand. "I tell you one thing; I'm definitely putting this on my résumé."

A man suddenly walked inside and stopped when he saw Eric there. "Who are you?"

"Officer Delko, Miami-Dade crime lab."

"Oh," the man said. "Henry Collins, I'm the manager."

Eric crossed his arms in front of him. "My boss is going to want to talk to you."

"Don't bother, man," Henry said, approaching a urinal. "I've already been questioned, re-questioned, and questioned again. I don't know how many times I can say 'I wasn't there when it happened' without sounding like a fucking broken record."

Eric frowned. Elijah, not liking the way the man talked, tugged on Eric's sleeve so he'd pick him up.

"You know, we've had that sale for over a month now? A month. These people come buy their presents a day before Christmas," Henry said, finished peeing and went to the sinks to wash his hands. "A day before Christmas, can you believe that?"

"Yeah, well, single parents don't necessarily have the luxury of time," Eric said.

"Please," Henry scoffed. "Five minutes, you come in, you grab the damn thing, you pay for it, you're out. What's so time consuming about that?"

"I don't know, why don't you explain that to him next time he asks where his mother is?"

Henry looked at boy in Eric's arms, who stared back at him with his tiny eyebrows furrowed, and sighed, walking over to grab a couple of paper towels from the dispenser. "Bottom line is: we're not responsible for the way people act around here.

"Well, it's your store, Henry. Everything that happens here from the moment you clock in to the moment you clock out is your responsibility," Eric said.

"I didn't stomp on that woman for a fucking doll," Henry said. "You wanna blame someone, blame the people who did." He threw the paper towel in the basket and stormed out.

Eric shook his head and looked at Elijah. "You know, Calleigh says holsters were invented to protect the gun. I think they were invented so your brain has time to give you second thoughts before you shoot people like that."

Elijah seemed to agree.

Eric set him on the counter again before he began to gather all his tools and put them back into his kit. A couple of minutes later, Horatio walked in, looking like he had just run twenty miles.

"How's it going out there?" Eric asked.

"Let's just say a lot of people will be sleeping in a cell tonight," Horatio said. "You got his clothes?"

"Yeah," Eric said and handed Horatio a couple of plastic bags, along with his notes and other bits of evidence he had found.

Horatio spotted Elijah and smiled. "Hey, champ. How you doing?" When the kid didn't respond, he ruffled his hair and turned to Eric. "You doing alright?"

"Yeah," Eric said and then frowned. "That manager guy—"

"Yeah, he's a real asshole," Horatio agreed. "We're taking him to the station now."

"Good," Eric said.

"I stole these from the front, I figured no one would mind," Horatio said, reached into a bag and handed Eric a few articles of tiny clothes. "And for you."

Eric looked at the all too familiar blue jumper and frowned. "What's that for?"

"You've got evidence on you, my friend," Horatio replied.

Eric looked down, noticing some of the blood on Elijah's clothes had transferred onto his shirt. "Crap."

"Bag it and tag it," Horatio said. "I'll be outside."

Eric stopped him. "Hey, hey, what about the kid?"

Horatio looked at Elijah and then at Eric again. "What about him?"

"What should I do with him?"

"We're still trying to get in touch with a family member," Horatio said.

"Well, in the meantime, can't somebody else take him?"

"Why? He already likes you," Horatio said.

"Yeah, but," Eric hesitated, "No offense, H, but... I mean, don't get me wrong, I like kids—"

"Good," Horatio said. "You like kids, he likes your badge. You'll make a great pair."

Eric frowned and stopped him from leaving again. "What about the crime scene?"

"I already called for backup," Horatio said.

"And you don't need any help outside?"

"Eric, I need you to keep an eye on him right now. You're not doing me a favor, that's your job," Horatio said.

"I know, but I don't exactly have a good rapport with kids," Eric said.

"He seems to like you just fine," Horatio said. "You saved his life, he feels safe with you."

Eric frowned. "When did I save his life?"

"Outside."

"That was hardly a mob pit," Eric chuckled.

"To a thirty year old man, yes. To a three year old boy that was a life or death situation, and you rescued him from it. He sees you as a super hero now," Horatio explained.

Eric rolled his eyes. God he hated when Horatio talked like that. "He told you that? Cause he hasn't said a word to me."

Horatio looked at Elijah and smiled tenderly. "Hey, champ. You wanna come and hang around with me for a while?"

Elijah shook his head.

"See?" Horatio said.

"Well, sure, if you ask him like _that_," Eric said. "You gotta lure him with your badge."

"Eric," Horatio said sharply. "Kids are not dogs, they rely on consistency. And shock patients are too delicate. If somebody else takes him and he doesn't like it we might lose an important eye witness. That's the bottom line. Understood?"

Eric hesitated for a moment before breathing out a reluctant, "Yes."

"Good," Horatio said. "I'll keep you posted."

Eric sighed when he was gone. "Hundreds of people out there, you had to make _me_ mother hen." Elijah didn't say anything, nor did much, but there was something about his expression that made Eric feel bad.

"Sorry, buddy, nothing personal, but I'm long overdue for a promotion and babysitting isn't exactly a career boost," Eric said, took his shirt off carefully and placed it in a bag, and proceeded to do the same with his pants, hoping no one would walk into the bathroom at the moment, because he was sure the image of a grown man down to his boxers in front of a three year old down to his briefs wouldn't necessarily inject confidence in anyone.

After putting on that unflattering jumper he always hated so much, he dressed Elijah, undressed him, and dressed him again when he realized he had put his shirt on backwards. He was starting to wonder if it was really fair that children didn't come with instructions printed on their backs. After making sure he wasn't leaving anything behind, Eric ventured out into the store again, noticing there didn't seem to be a lot of noise coming from the outside. Kit in one hand and a three year old's hand in the other, his eyes scanned the gigantic store for Horatio, but it seemed as if everyone had gone home and left him there. He also tried to locate the clothing area to steal a pair of shoes for Elijah, but it seemed to be dangerously close to the crime scene, and the last thing he needed was a crying kid in his hands.

So he walked around aimlessly, mostly talking to himself because talking to the kid was pretty much fruitless, and feeling desperately useless. It probably didn't help that Ryan whisked past them on his way to deliver some evidence at one point. Eric groaned. Backup _had_ to be Ryan. That kid didn't seem to have much of a life going for him.

When his stomach began to grumble, Eric ducked into the break room. The employees seemed to have been relocated, because the room was now empty. He sat Elijah on a dirty round table and walked towards a set of vending machines. Junk food, mostly, except for a couple of suspicious looking egg salad sandwiches. Better than starving to death, he thought.

He handed one to Elijah and dragged a chair over to sit down in front of the boy, who merely looked at the sandwich as if he didn't know what to do with it.

"Open it," Eric coaxed, opening his to show him, but Elijah mostly just stared at Eric. Eric took it and gave him a tiny piece of his own. "I'm not gonna regurgitate it for you, if that's what you want."

But Elijah looked at the piece of sandwich with disinterest, and it wasn't until Eric took a bite of his that he figured out why. Even the bread tasted like ass.

"Could've at least warned me," Eric said spitefully and threw the sandwiches away. He scanned the next vending machine – nothing but chips and chocolate, but he wasn't about to go hungry on top of having to baby sit a kid who wouldn't even talk to him. So he bought a couple of bags of chips and a couple of chocolate bars and ate them alone; Elijah seemed more interested in watching him eat than eat anything himself.

Nor did he seem interested in walking anymore. So kit in one hand, camera around his neck, and kid in one arm, Eric began to walk around the store again, wondering what the hell was taking Horatio so fucking long. And as if on cue, Horatio appeared in front of him, on his way out the store with a bag of evidence.

"Did you locate his family?" Eric called after him.

Horatio came to an abrupt stop and turned to Eric. "Mother was unmarried, family lives in Kentucky. We're trying to locate a father."

Eric shook his head. "And if there isn't one?"

"Social Services has been notified. Busy season, I guess. Ironic."

"Yeah, hilarious," Eric said seriously.

Horatio ignored Eric's bad mood and pointed at his kit. "Want me to take that?"

"Why not? It's not like I'll need it," Eric said and handed him the kit and camera.

"Still on the job, Eric," Horatio said and began to walk away.

"Yeah, a 12 year old girl's job," Eric called after him, but when he was ignored again, he let out a sigh and a grunt.

"Hey, look on the bright side. At least you look _adorable_."

Oh, _crap_. Eric cursed mentally and put on a fake smile before he turned around to feign shock. "Calleigh, what are you doing here?"

Calleigh smiled. "Horatio was in a pickle, my case is in a jam, I thought I might give him thirty minutes of my time," she said. "Also, someone at the lab said something about Eric Delko adopting a child, and well, I had to see it to believe it."

"I didn't adopt him, he adopted me," Eric said defensively.

"Very astute child," Calleigh said, winked at him, and pinched Elijah's cheek. "Hi, cutie!"

Elijah moved away from her touch and rested his head on Eric's shoulder, a tiny arm gripping on his neck like a snake.

Eric sighed. "Come on, _man_!"

Calleigh chuckled. "I think it's the haircut. Kinda makes you look like Barney."

"This isn't funny, Calleigh. I should be processing evidence, not running a day care center," Eric said and began to walk her towards the exit.

"Aw, don't I feel so sorry for you," Calleigh said sarcastically. "Besides, don't you wanna have kids someday?"

"Yeah, someday," Eric said. "When I have nothing left to live for, and when the government officially declares me procreating is not a threat to society, yes, I would like to have a couple of mini Delkos."

"Well, never too early to start practicing," Calleigh said.

"Right," Eric said, frowning at nothing. "So everyone back at the lab is laughing at me?"

"Some. But not to your face, so at least they're being respectful about it," Calleigh teased.

"Well, thank God for that," he said sarcastically.

"Oh, stop feeling sorry for yourself!" Calleigh said sharply. "You're in a toy store, show him around, get him a teddy bear. You can't possibly be having a worse day than him, Eric."

Eric stopped by the entrance and dropped his head in defeat. Dammit, he hated when she was right. "You're right, I'm sorry. I'm an idiot."

"You are an idiot," Calleigh said and opened the door. "But you do look adorable together," she smiled and walked off towards the parking lot.

Eric frowned as he watched her go. Huh. Interesting. So, grown man, plus baby, equals adorable. Now who the hell had failed to teach him that equation in Math class?

"Hey," he said, bouncing Elijah until the boy pulled back to look at him. "You don't really want a teddy bear, do you? It's bad enough that you have Sesame Street pacifiers, but a teddy bear? No, not while you're with me."

Eric's mood had changed drastically by the time he found himself in an aisle full of toy trucks, toy cars, and toy trains. So many of them, and so many models, he had to take a deep breath. He was in heaven.

"Okay," he said as he began to walk down the aisle, browsing through all the toys. "You know, when I was your age - well, not exactly your age, give or take ten years - there's nothing I wanted more than a train set. Only my father never got me one, because apparently they were too expensive. Every Christmas I got the same excuse – 'Santa Claus can't bring you a train set, Eric. Santa Claus is too poor.' Poor my ass. Those kids in the commercial got one, why couldn't I?"

He stopped talking when he found himself standing in front of a giant column of train sets. And there, in the middle, was the most beautiful one of all. Eric was so taken aback by it, he nearly dropped Elijah. The box seemed to be glowing heavenly, and he wasn't entirely sure, but he thought he could hear angels singing.

"There it is," he told Elijah, who, since Eric had gotten him, finally seemed interested in _something_.

Eric reached for the giant box and let it rest on his knee. "F40PH diesel locomotive with operating headlight, three lighted Amfleet passenger cars, plug-in terminal rerailer—" he had to stop to take a deep breath and look at Elijah. "You wouldn't think of me less of a man if I started crying right now, would you?"

Elijah shook his head and pointed at the picture of a train on the box.

"I know," Eric said. He poked his head around the corner and flagged the first employee that walked by, a girl who looked like she was all of fifteen years old. "Hey, how much is this train set?"

The girl came over and scanned the box. "Uh, seventy nine, ninety nine."

Eric's mouth dropped. "That's it? I can't believe that whole time he bitched about it being too expensive and it's only seventy nine, ninety nine. Probably thirty bucks back then." He shook his head and reached into his back pocket for his wallet. "I'll take it."

The employee gave him a weird look. "Sir, there's... aren't you supposed to be investigating?"

"Yeah," Eric said, handing her a credit card. "Oh, you know what? I'll take this one, too," he grabbed another model and gave it to her. "My nephew will love it. And can you get me some batteries with that? I hate it when they open it and there are no batteries, suddenly everyone's looking at you like it was _your_ job to buy batteries with the present. I mean, you bought the damn thing, the least they could do is get the batteries themselves, right?"

She stared at him as if he had grown a second head. "You... want me to wrap it?"

"No, we'll take ours like that," Eric smiled.

"Okay," the girl said, frowned at him and walked away.

Eric grinned like a little boy at a... well, toy store. He grabbed a box of the same model he had bought, sat down on the floor, put Elijah next to him, and opened the big box.

"Rule of thumb," he said, "Make sure you have lots of time and space before you start building this. Could take days. But it's not like I'll be doing anything else today, so," he emptied the box on the floor; pieces of the train set flew everywhere.

Eric immediately grabbed a big piece of the track and showed it to Elijah. "See? This is all common sense, so you're not really going to need the instructions. That's for nerds and little girls." He crumbled the instructions in to a paper ball and threw it away, then picked up two pieces of track and put them together, they didn't seem to match. Picked up another one, no match. "What the hell is this for?" he added as he picked up a weird piece and inspected it under the light.

"Aw, four years of college, two years at the MPD Academy, and look at our little Delko now... babysitting," Ryan mocked, as if appearing out of nowhere.

Eric looked up at him and shrugged his shoulders. "Yeah, but I still get a bigger paycheck than you, and all I have to do is sit here, so who's got the sweeter deal?"

"At least I don't have to change diapers," Ryan said indignantly.

"He's potty trained, thank you very much."

"Accidents still happen, especially at that age," Ryan said.

"Yeah, you should know," Eric joked. "Was it last week that you graduated into Pull Ups? I missed the ceremony."

"Ha ha," Ryan said sarcastically. His eyes suddenly averted towards the floor and they widened. "Hey, the Patriot Amtrak Express!" he exclaimed and sat down, his kit forgotten.

"Cool, huh? I bought it for him," Eric said proudly.

"You have no idea how much I wanted one of these when I was a kid," Ryan said, grabbing a handful of the pieces. "Never got one, though - too expensive."

Eric shook his head and continued trying to put the track together, but it was no use. Of all the boxes on display, he had to pick the one some idiot at the factory screwed up.

Ryan was having the same trouble; his eyes widened at the massive amount of pieces this train came with, and then looked at Elijah, who had a tiny blue piece in one hand and Eric's badge in the other. Ryan looked at the pieces again, at Elijah, at the pieces, and at Eric. "I don't think it's such a good idea for him to be playing with this, Delko."

Eric looked up and frowned. "Why not?"

Ryan reached for the giant box. "Says here 'ages 8 and up'."

Eric leaned over to read it and frowned. "That's gotta be a misprint, what's 8 year olds got that 3 year olds don't?"

"Gee, I don't know. Let's see," Ryan said and picked up a tiny red piece. "Hi, I'm three years old. I'm not allowed to have candy before dinner and I have to touch everything I see because I'm _annoyingly_ curious. What's this? It looks like candy! I wonder what would happen if I jammed it down my esophagus."

"Come on, he's smart. He's not gonna choke on it," Eric said.

"Well, there's a reason why they put warning labels on these things," Ryan said. "They do experiments before they sell them on the market, you know. God knows how many three year olds they went through before they realized maybe babies shouldn't be playing around with tiny little pieces of deliciously looking plastic."

"Well, we've been here for twenty minutes, and he hasn't chocked once," Eric said.

"Yeah, wait till he loses that pacifier," Ryan said and smiled broadly. "I think you should give it to me."

"Right," Eric chuckled.

"Come on, he's not even playing with it, he's just staring at it," Ryan whined.

"He'll learn to play with it," Eric said.

"But he'll never truly appreciate it. He hasn't wanted one of these since he was five. He's not even five yet!"

"You have a job, Wolfe. Get your own," Eric said.

Ryan frowned. "You know, I _could_ get my own."

"I'm sure."

"I could get a bigger one."

"Yup."

Ryan smiled, but then frowned again when he looked at Elijah. "Why is he looking at me like that?"

"He thinks you're an idiot," Eric said.

"Here you go, sir," the employee walked up to Eric and handed him his receipt along with a massive bag containing two train sets. Her eyes widened when she saw the mess on the floor.

"Is this okay? I thought I'd just put that one back," Eric said cheekily.

The girl sighed, took the train set out of the bag, and put it back on display.

Eric ducked his head as she walked away. "If you want that train set you better get it now before she comes back and lights me on fire."

"I have to go back to the scene anyway," Ryan said, reached for his kit, and stood up. "Hey, call me when you finish it. We'll test drive it."

"_If_ I ever finish it," Eric mumbled, still trying to figure out how to put the pieces of the track together. For thirty minutes, he tried to find a way to make them fit without the use of glue, and despite common sense making sarcastic comments in his head, he was _not_ going to reach for those instructions.

Ten minutes later, though, it didn't seem to be important anymore, because next to him, Eric thought he could hear a low cry, like a mouse or a possum or something. He looked over, and his eyes widened when he saw the pools of tears in Elijah's eyes.

"Oh, no, no, please don't!" Eric begged him, but that only seemed to encourage the crying along. He desperately picked up one of the train's cars and waved it in the air for Elijah's amusement. "Here, look, a train!"

No use.

"No, no, no!" Eric groaned when the crying became louder. "Are you hungry, thirsty? Just _tell_ me."

Nothing eloquent except wailing and more wailing, which made Eric even more nervous, this, in turn, made Elijah cry louder. "Where the fuck is Horatio!"

Eric rushed towards the end of the aisle and looked around, no one there. Ran to the other end and looked out – no one. He returned to Elijah's side, tried to cheer him up with zoo animal noises and cartoons impressions, but that didn't help either. So he picked the kid up and began to gently bounce him in his arms while attempting to sing what he knew was the worst improvised lullaby ever, but it wasn't until he began to gently massage Elijah's back that the kid's cries began to diminish, _somewhat_.

Eric felt the skin was swollen there, and he assumed the crying came due to pain, and if there was pain, then this kid was probably coming to his senses again. And the prospect of that nearly gave him shivers. So he just kept walking and making up songs in his head about horses and cows and pigs and GI Joes until Elijah's cries toned down to sleepy sobs.

Eric didn't stop, though, because he was sure if this kid remained awake, things would get much, much worse. And Horatio was just being ridiculous now, because Eric was neither a therapist nor a child specialist, and he was sure he was doing everything wrong with this child and where the _hell_ was Social Services?

Finally, he found himself in an area full of soft colors and fuzzy blankets and he didn't care if everyone back at the lab would laugh at the image of him rocking a three year old to sleep in a painfully pink and baby blue room, he sat down in a surprisingly comfortable rocking chair and continued to rub Elijah's back.

And as it turned out the wailing wasn't as bad as the whimpering, which began ten minutes later and went on for God knows how long, but the boy seemed unable to fall asleep, sounding like some sort of wounded animal. Eric's hand was beginning to hurt but it didn't stop the repetitive motion. He didn't know if it was the whimpering, or the pink room, or the picture of Elijah holding on to his badge like it was a lifesaver, but Eric felt bad, complaining because he didn't get to be Calleigh's Secret Santa while this kid would spend the rest of his life associating Christmas with the death of his mother. He knew no amount of toy trains or puppies or GI Joes would make the holidays enjoyable for him again, which is probably the reason why he didn't stop the massages or the rocking, even after Elijah had fallen asleep.

And what seemed like minutes later but were actually hours, he felt someone shaking him and calling his name. Eric opened his eyes and jumped at the sight of Horatio, merely inches away from his face.

"What the hell?" Eric groaned.

"Social Services is here," Horatio said.

Eric frowned, his sleepy mind trying to figure out where he was and what the hell was happening. But then he took in the pink surroundings and the little head on his shoulder and he remembered. "Oh, right."

Horatio put his hand on Elijah's back as Eric stood up. "Do you want me to—"

"No, I'll do it," Eric said somewhat territorially. Horatio smiled and handed him the bag with the two train sets he had bought. "Outside?"

"Yes," Horatio replied.

Eric walked away from him and it wasn't until he made it to the front of the store that he realized it was getting dark outside and he was glad for that. What he wouldn't give for this day to be over. Exhausted, he pushed the doors open and immediately spotted a white van, a heavy woman waiting by its side.

When she saw him, she smiled and approached. "Is that him?"

"Yeah," Eric said.

"Thank you for waiting, I'm so sorry I wasn't able to get here sooner," she said.

"Part of the job," Eric replied, and it wasn't until she extended her arms to him and raised her eyebrows suggestively that he realized she wanted him to give her the kid.

Right.

Except now he was a little bit reluctant. Who the hell was this woman? What were her credentials? Was the white van a decoy? She never even showed him a badge...

Eric shook his head; he was being paranoid now. "Right," he said and peeled Elijah off his body. She grabbed him and bounced him in her arms a couple of times, something that seemed ridiculous to Eric, since Elijah was still asleep. He frowned.

"Okay, you have to be careful with his back, cause it's tender," he said, and he was sure he sounded a bit bitchy, but he couldn't believe this woman was an expert when she wasn't even holding him right.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said.

Eric rolled his eyes, and as she placed Elijah in a car seat in the van, he reached into the bag and took out one of the train sets. "Here, this is his. None of the other kids are allowed to play with it."

The woman laughed, though Eric couldn't see what was so funny. "I'll make sure of it."

"Okay," Eric said. He walked over and carefully extracted his badge from Elijah's grip, which was stronger than he could have imagined for a three year old. Not really knowing what to do next, Eric just ruffled his hair and took one step back when the woman shut the door.

"We'll keep in touch with your supervisor," she said.

"Okay," Eric replied, watched as she hopped inside and drove away. He looked around, still not really knowing what to do, and squeezed his biceps, sore from carrying Elijah around all day. Didn't bother him, though. Letting out a sigh, he turned around and jumped again when he saw Horatio there, staring into the distance with his hands on his hips.

"Jesus Christ," Eric exclaimed, his hand covering his heart. Horatio really needed to start wearing a bell around his neck or the entire staff would end up in an insane asylum.

"His father is driving in from San Francisco," Horatio said solemnly. "I talked to him, seems like a good man."

Eric nodded. "Good."

"You okay?" Horatio asked.

Eric frowned at him and began to walk towards the Hummer. "Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

Horatio followed. "It's a sad case."

"Yeah," Eric said absentmindedly. "So is Calleigh's case, so is Ryan's case; they're all sad."

Horatio nodded. "True. But you were with him for a while, there. I thought—"

Eric chuckled dryly. "What did you expect me to do, H, chase the van down the street, force it into a stop and sign the adoption papers?"

"No," Horatio said. "But even Speed got a little emotional, I thought it would hit you the hardest."

Eric froze in place; his eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"But, I guess I was wrong," Horatio said, patting his back. "Bright and early tomorrow. Ryan's gonna give you a ride."

"Wait a minute, whoa, whoa," Eric exclaimed, forcing him to stop and turn around. "What are you saying that this was all some kind of test?"

"Not exactly a test," Horatio said.

"Then what?"

Horatio thought about it for a while. "I guess it was a test," he said. "See you tomorrow."

"No, no, no!" Eric said sharply, making him stop again. "Are you telling me I went through all of that just so you could teach me a lesson?"

Horatio shrugged his shoulders. "Among other things."

"What other things?"

"Amusement, boredom. But mostly I just wanted to teach you a lesson," Horatio said.

Eric's eyes were suddenly wide and a bit frantic, his mouth open in shock. "What the fuck for?!"

"Because, it's not always about fingerprints and promotions, we're here to care about the victims, too," Horatio said matter-of-factly. "You thought what you did today in there was useless? I'm sure Elijah Harris disagrees."

"That's _it_?" Eric shook his head. "You could have just told me that, you know. You didn't have to rip my heart out and stomp all over it like this!"

"I thought you said this was just another case. Nothing special."

"And you believed me?" Eric exclaimed.

"Eric—"

"You know, now you owe me one for doing this," Eric said.

Horatio smiled. "I'm not switching with you for Calleigh."

Eric's eyes widened. "You _owe_ me!"

"Night, Eric," Horatio said and walked away.

"I've got Yelina!"

"No you don't," Horatio said.

Eric sighed. "Should've just told me, I would have understood."

"No you wouldn't have."

"Well... probably not, but I wouldn't feel like blowing my fucking brains out right now!"

Horatio ignored him, got into his Hummer and drove away. Eric watched him go and frowned. Stupid Horatio with his stupid Danny Tanner-ish lessons. Only two words remained in his mind at that moment: friendly fire.

Suddenly he felt someone stand next to him, and Eric didn't have to look over to know who it was. He shook his head and started to walk away. "Alright, let's go get hammered."

"Finally!" Ryan followed.


	10. Close Eyes and Jump, Repeat as Needed

**How to Slide Down Horatio Caine's Chimney in 10 Easy Steps**  
by Carolina

The 24th of December. T minus eight hours. Mission status: non responsive to mouth to mouth resuscitation.

Eric woke up feeling like he was falling, or the room was spinning, or he had the world's worst hangover. Possibly the latter. Groaning, he blindly punched the snooze button of his alarm clock and hugged his pillow. But the alarm started wailing again five minutes later, forcing him to open his eyes. The brightness of the day was not helping alleviate the headache, and after stumbling into the bathroom he got a couple of pills from the medicine cabinet and gulped them down. If he had any luck, he had just mistaken them for rat poison.

After a quick shower he dragged his heels into the living room, where he spotted a wrapped gift sitting on his coffee table. The hell? He checked the tag, 'For Alexx from Eric. Merry Christmas.'

Okay.

When exactly had he bought Alexx's present? It was his handwriting on the note. Had he been _that_ drunk the night before? He shook his head and picked it up anyway. Well, some men end up going home with strange women when they got drunk. Apparently, he preferred to hit the ladies department at JC Penney.

He arrived at work somberly, still feeling the strain of both his adventurous night with Ryan and the emotions of the day before, which he had decided to try and put out of his mind. Victims come and go, some touch your heart, and some don't. In the end, just knowing their lives were changed for better by the work they did was all that mattered to Eric. Still, he couldn't help but wonder how Elijah was doing, if he was still in shock or not, if he was scared or if they were treating him right. Maybe he could call and ask, or even drop by on Christmas day and spend a couple of hours with him, just so he wouldn't have to be alone. Maybe they could even try to put the train together again, even if Eric _had_ to read the instructions.

The Christmas soundtrack seemed to be on loop still, because as soon as he walked out of the elevator he was welcomed by the unfortunate life of Rudolph, with his red nose and peer taunting. Even as a child, Eric never understood the song. Santa felt so bad for Rudolph, that he forced him into slavery and made him lead his sleigh every night while he sat on his fat ass and whipped the poor reindeer, as he understood it. How was _that_ a happy ending?

Ignoring everyone, including his inane internal ramblings, Eric crossed the lab and walked into the locker room, where Ryan sat on the bench, his head and shoulders hunched over.

"Morning," Eric said.

"Shhh!" Ryan hissed, massaging his temples with his fingers.

Despite his own headache, Eric chuckled. "Can't believe you never had Mojitos before."

Ryan finally raised his head, wincing at the light; his eyes were red and puffy. "Is that what I drank last night?"

Eric frowned. "I'm not sure. But if we went out drinking right now that's where I'd take you, so let's assume you did."

Ryan moaned. "There's no way I'll be able to work today."

"Sure you will, don't be a baby," Eric said, opening his locker and putting Alexx's present inside. A thought hit him. "Did you get Valera's present?"

"Well, _someone_ did," Ryan said. "Woke up this morning and there it was."

"Me too," Eric said. "I wonder what I got Alexx."

"Should we unwrap them?"

Eric thought about it for a while and then shook his head. "Nah, it'll be a surprise for us, too."

"I think I'll unwrap mine," Ryan said. "I don't think I could handle the look on Valera's face when she opens her present and sees a piece of road kill at the bottom of the box."

"Suit yourself," Eric said, confident he had gotten Alexx a nice gift. For some reason, he always made good decisions when he was drunk. Well, almost always.

He left Ryan in the locker room and went to the break room to brew himself some coffee, and after that, went to find Horatio, who put him in the unfortunate task of doing paperwork all day. Eric didn't mind, for the first time in his life, because like Ryan, he was sure he wouldn't be able to work while hosting this nasty hangover.

Mostly he just wanted to think about what he would do with Calleigh's present. There was no other option now than waiting for her birthday. Really, it was only two months away, anyway. He had waited this long, he could wait eight miserable more weeks. They would probably go in the blink of an eye.

Except Calleigh hated her birthday, so much that she didn't even know Eric knew when it was. And if he revealed to her that he knew when her birthday was, and that he had bought her something, a sign of celebration, he was sure she would break his neck before he could reach for his gun.

Not good. Eric was pretty sure he needed his neck to hold his head high, though even with his neck intact he didn't seem to be holding his head much higher than his knees at the moment.

Frustrated, he continued to work on the paperwork, went to lunch when his stomach began to grumble, and came back without running into Calleigh once. Uh oh. Limited or non existent encounters with Calleigh. Always, _always_ a bad sign. Ryan was right, he should've checked Alexx's present. What if he ended up getting her... a dildo or some shit like that?

Sweet Lord.

As soon as he rushed out of the room to check, though, he ran into Carrie, who immediately took some ten or so steps away from him.

"Eric, we're doing the Secret Santa," she said hesitantly.

"Now?" Eric exclaimed.

"Yeah, it's the only time when everyone's available," Carrie said.

Crap, Eric thought. He went into the locker room to retrieve Alexx's gift, and was about to open it there but there were other people in the room, all getting small boxes and little boxes out of their lockers. No time to check now. He followed them into the break room where everybody was already assembled, some way too excited about the game, others not so much, such as himself, and Frank, who looked like he was waiting for the world's most painful dental appointment, rather than sharing a good time with his colleagues. But that wasn't a rarity.

Horatio cleared his throat. "Well, I guess... just find the person you got and give them your gift."

_Not_ a good idea.

Everybody started chasing their recipients and nobody was slowing down to receive their gift. Eric chased Alexx while Alexx chased Ryan, who chased Valera, who chased Paula, who chased Stephanie, who chased Frank, who chased Yelina, and so on. Finally, Horatio called a time out, regrouped, and came up with a more organized way to play the game. He handed Calleigh her gift, Calleigh handed Sam his gift, Sam handed Cynthia her gift and so on.

Eric's Secret Santa turned out to be a woman he didn't really now, a colleague of Frank and Yelina, but she must have done her research well, because she got him a very rare Russian book he strangely couldn't wait to read.

He held his breath as Alexx opened her present, and let it out when she showed everyone a beautiful silk robe Eric was sure had cost him and arm and a leg, but it was impossible to stay mad when Alexx looked so happy. Most of the people left as soon as they received their gifts, crime doesn't take coffee breaks in Miami, but Eric stayed behind, sitting on the couch's arm rest and watching as Ryan nervously gave Valera her gift. She opened it and shrieked, threw her arms around Ryan and Eric's eyes widened in surprise when she kissed him smack on the lips. Ryan looked just as shocked.

It wasn't until Valera pulled back to look at her gift appreciatively that Eric realized Ryan had bought her a Christmas angel. Nice. Valera looked like she was on the verge of tears; Ryan looked like a teenage boy who had just had his first sexual experience.

"Hmm, why do I get the feeling you had something to do with that?" someone said next to him.

Eric looked up to find Calleigh looking at Ryan and Valera like she was watching a romantic movie. He frowned, wondering if he had given Ryan the idea of buying Valera a Christmas angel during their drunken stupor. It seemed like the only explanation. So great, he could help Ryan get laid, but he couldn't even get a hug himself? God, that was pathetic.

"What's the matter?" Calleigh asked, noticing he seemed a bit melancholic.

Eric shrugged his shoulders. "Nothing."

Calleigh gave him a knowing smile. "You didn't get your official Red Ryder carbine-action two-hundred-shot range model air rifle?"

Eric laughed. "Nah, I'd probably shoot my eye out."

"If your mom doesn't kill you first."

Eric smiled. "What did you get?"

Calleigh reached into a bag and showed him a holster.

"Nice," Eric said, impressed. So that catalog had been Horatio's after all. Damn!

"How about you?" she asked. Eric showed her the book and she looked closely, trying to read it, but when she realized the words were Russian she frowned. "I don't know what that means."

"Well, if my dad doesn't steal it from me, I'll read it to you someday," Eric said.

"That'd be nice."

Eric smiled, for no other reason than the fact that she seemed to be in a really good mood. Things had been so morose around the lab since Speed passed away, it was a treat, seeing everyone so happy and care free. He wished it could be like this every single day, minus the annoying Christmas Carols, of course.

When the break room was left for empty, Eric stood up and began to walk Calleigh... wherever it was she was going. He was sure he didn't care, as long as he could talk to her for a while without making a fool out of himself. "So what are you doing for Christmas?"

Calleigh scrunched her nose. "Family. You?"

"Ditto."

She smiled as she walked into the locker room. "One of those big Delko celebrations where the whole of Miami shows up; with seven turkeys and ten thousand pounds of rice and beans and loud music?"

Eric chuckled. "Don't forget the pork. You're not a member of the family until you know what it's like to practically feel as your arteries clog up."

Calleigh grinned and opened her locker, reaching inside for her things. "Wish my mom could cook like yours."

"I'm sure she's a good cook."

Calleigh gave him a reluctant look. "I'm sure she can't even tell the difference between the oven and the dishwasher."

Eric chuckled. "Well, I'll save you some flan, then."

"Oh, don't worry about it," Calleigh said. "Besides, you won't see me for two weeks."

Eric frowned, merriment instantly vanishing from his face. "How come?"

"Vacation."

Eric sighed. "You're kidding."

"Hey, I don't wanna go, but I've got all these sick days piled up and if I don't use them they'll just go to waste," Calleigh explained.

"Yeah, but two weeks?" Eric moaned. "What am I gonna do without you for two weeks?"

"You're just gonna have to get Horatio to tie your shoes for you," Calleigh joked, but when he didn't even smile, she frowned. "Come on, don't make this harder than it already is. Two weeks is nothing."

"Yeah, to you. You'll be having fun," Eric said.

"With my family?" Calleigh said incredulously. "Don't be surprised if I'm back in two hours."

Eric finally allowed himself to chuckle, but mirthlessly. He watched as Calleigh put the remaining of her things in a bag. Well, this just plain _sucked_. Two weeks without seeing Calleigh. Fourteen days of bad luck.

Great. Just great. Could this Christmas get any worse?

She shut her locker door, turned to him and tilted her head at his pouty look. "Am I going to have to get Alexx to distract you by jiggling her keys in your face while I slip out the door?"

Eric rolled his eyes. "Please, Calleigh, I'm a big boy now."

"Okay, big boy," Calleigh said and grinned. "Do I at least get a good bye hug?"

Eric's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. "Are you kidding?"

Calleigh smiled and stepped into his embrace, wrapping her arms around his waist; she pressed her cheek to his breast and sighed. "Behave while I'm gone, okay?"

"Don't I always behave?" Eric teased, resting his chin on the top of her head, reveling in the way she fit there so perfectly. Tiny, but perfectly nonetheless.

"Don't get drunk tonight."

"I have to get drunk, how else am I going to bear these two weeks?" Eric teased.

Calleigh chuckled. "Well, if you do get drunk, don't go home with any strange girls, or I'm gonna be pretty jealous."

Eric smiled. "Promise."

He hugged her tighter, wondering if she knew how much he'd give for this conversation to be serious. He and Calleigh had always had a flirtatious relationship; it was as natural now as blinking or breathing. The problem with that was, somewhere down the line it became serious for him, but not for her. And he went along with it cause... well, he was so desperate now that any bone she threw at him was worth a chew. It was better to have these little moments, even if they didn't mean anything, than having no moments at all. So he played along with her, because as torturing as the fake flirting could be, it was also kinda nice at the same time. Like some powerful drug, destructive but addictive.

She finally pulled back and smiled up at him, "What kind of flan?"

Eric chuckled. "Vanilla?"

"Send it with a courier," Calleigh said, got on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. "Merry Christmas."

Eric's smile broadened, his ears turned red and he was sure there was steam coming out of them, but he didn't care. "Merry Christmas, Calleigh."

He watched her go, and she didn't turn at the door or came back five minutes later into the room to throw herself in his arms like in all those romantic movies his stupid sisters watched, just walked away and that was it. Eric leaned against the lockers and sighed.

Mission status: flat lined.

--

Half an hour later, Eric let his body fall on his couch and reached into his bag for the book he had been given. He opened it and began to read the first couple of pages, but quickly lost interest in the story. Calleigh's gift sat on top of his television, nicely wrapped and wearing a cute bow, and Eric cussed at himself. Why couldn't he be a man like his sisters and just go for it? All of them married, two of them with children, and they had all asked their husbands out first. And here he was, unable to perform the simple task that was giving someone a present.

Really, this wouldn't have happened if his mother hadn't given birth to him last. All those times his sisters dressed him up as a girl and put make up on him, he _knew_ it would have a negative effect on him sooner or later, and this was the result. God help it, no son of his would ever be forced to wear make up or walk around in his mother's heels. He would see to that if he had to quit his job and become a stay at home dad.

He sighed for the hundredth time that day, his eyes scanning the words but his mind pretty much ignoring them. He closed the book to start reading it again when the phone began to ring. Without taking his eyes off the pages, he picked it up. "Delko."

"Eric, talk to your father."

Eric closed his eyes and rolled them under his eyelids. "What's wrong, ma?"

"I have been cleaning up all day, doing his laundry, ironing his clothes. Now he tells me he doesn't want to wear the black pants, he wants to wear the brown pants."

He shrugged his shoulders, failing to see what the point of this call was. "Okay. Well, just let him wear the brown pants. What's the problem?"

"I didn't iron the brown pants, I ironed the _black_ pants. When he learns to iron, he can iron his brown pants and wear them whenever he wants to wear them," his mother babbled, her accent much thicker in a way that reminded Eric of Calleigh's accent and how thick it got when she was mad.

"And this is a big problem for you?" Eric asked, disinterested.

"Yes," she exclaimed. "Everybody's coming, imagine what they'll say when Pavel shows up with wrinkled pants."

"I don't really think people care that much, ma."

"So you're taking his side?" she said sharply.

Eric sighed. "I'm not taking anyone's side; I'm taking _my_ side, the side that won't cause me to end up in a mental institution at the age of twenty eight."

At that moment, his father picked up the bedroom phone. "Eric, talk to your mother."

"Dad, mom's on the phone," Eric complained.

"Tell her I'll wear the brown pants if I want to wear the brown pants because I _paid_ for those brown pants!"

"The brown pants are dirty and wrinkled!" his mother shrieked.

"I don't care! Henry's wearing brown pants, Morty's wearing brown pants, and Sal is wearing brown pants," his father argued.

"So you can look like four idiots? That's why you want the brown pants?"

Eric closed his eyes and tried to drift away as his parents argued with each other over the phone. No use. Apparently his father had regressed into his teenage years, where he wanted to wear the pants all his friends were wearing and wouldn't take no for an answer. His mother was apparently too busy cooking tonight's gigantic meal to start doing laundry, and all his sisters were too busy with their own families to wash the damn brown pants.

Apparently, that left him to play marital counselor.

"You guys are in the same house, why don't you just hang up the phone, meet in the hallway, and continue the argument there?" Eric said monotonously.

Wrong thing to say.

His parents immediately joined forces and began to scold him, one in Spanish, one in Russian, until Eric had no idea what was happening anymore. It all became white noise as he stared at Calleigh's present again. God help him, but what he wouldn't give to be fighting with Calleigh right now over brown pants, yelling at his son in four different languages for saying something inappropriate. What a happy picture.

"Dad, how about I stop by the store on my way over and buy you some brown pants?" Eric finally said.

Silence.

"I guess that would work," his father said and hung up the phone.

His mother started a small celebration. "I always tell everybody, my baby's a genius."

"Ma," Eric complained. "I'm not a baby, okay? I'm a man."

"Of course you are, mi bebé," his mother cooed.

Eric rolled his eyes. "Listen, are you making flan?"

"Of course!"

"Good. Cause Calleigh wanted me to save her a piece, so m–"

"I already made hers," his mother said dismissively.

Eric frowned. "A whole one?"

"And you better come get it before someone eats it. You know her mother can't cook? Poor girl. Every time I call her—"

Eric's body shot up, his eyes widened. "You _call_ Calleigh?"

"Of course!"

"Why, why on _earth_ would you call Calleigh?"

"Eh, to talk sometimes," his mother said like it was the most natural thing in the world. "You know how your sisters are. Suddenly they get married and you don't hear from them anymore. I gave birth to four children and had a full time job, and I _always_ made time to call my mother! You kids are too spoiled."

Eric ignored that last part and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Please, _please_, tell me you don't tell her stories about my childhood."

His mother remained silent for a moment before she reluctantly replied, "not _all_ of them."

Eric felt the room spinning, his head throbbing, his stomach five seconds away from throwing up all the food he had eaten that day. "Which ones, ma?" he asked sharply.

"Oh, Eric, who can remember—"

"Which _ones_, ma?"

"Well, only the nice ones," his mom said innocently, "Like that time you got your little pee pee caught in that—"

"Oh, God!" he shouted, sprang from the couch and began to pace around his small living room. "Ma!"

"What?" she said defensively. "Oh, it's a cute story, Eric. Everybody _loves_ that story."

"Everybody loves to _make fun of me_, every time you tell that story, ma!"

"Oh, don't be silly!"

Eric covered his eyes with his hands and huffed. "You don't show her pictures, do you?"

"How am I going to show her pictures over the phone?"

Eric sat on the couch again, sighed and put his head between his legs, breathing hard. "Okay, okay, I can fix this."

"Fix what?" his mother exclaimed.

"What you've _done_, what you've done to me," Eric said dramatically. "And for Christ's sake, did you have to use the word _little_?!"

"Well it was little back then," his mother said.

"I was three!" Eric exclaimed. "You don't have to use the word little; you don't have to use any adjectives at all! This story does not need embellishment, ma!"

"Oh, stop being such a baby," his mother said. "Now come and get that flan before your father sees it. And don't forget the pants, size 42. I also need some achiote from the store. Ask the nice lady to help you if you don't know what it looks like. And don't wear any brown pants or none of you are eating at my table tonight."

Eric didn't realize she had hung up until he heard the busy signal. And suddenly he felt like screaming and punching the wall. No, not the wall. The wall had never humiliated him. The wall was his friend. It was _her_. His mother, with all her talking and her gushing and her pee pee stories. Oh, what Calleigh must be thinking of him _right now_, only confirmed by the way he always managed to act like an idiot whenever she was around. Add that to the fact that his own mother had taken to stalking Calleigh as well and he was just amazed she hadn't put a restraining order on anything or anyone with the name Delko. No wonder she never gave him the time of day. Hell, if anything he admired her for putting up with all of this. Forget Valera, his mother had just taken that first spot on his revenge list.

Upset and annoyed, embarrassed and twenty other etceteras, he showered and changed for the party. What the hell is achiote, anyway? Grabbing his keys from the coffee table, he stared at Calleigh's present once more, debating in his mind what he should do about it. Muttering something unintelligible under his breath, he grabbed it and pinned it under his arm pit. His life was already over, suicide was a sin, might as well get Calleigh to euthanize him.

-

Only now that he was staring at her door, he couldn't seem to go through with it. Eric couldn't hear any sounds coming from the inside of her apartment, but her car was in the parking lot, meaning she was probably inside. He could've used the buzzer downstairs to make sure, but for some reason he thought slipping into the building along with a little old lady was been a better idea.

Still, he just stood there, with her present and a flan in a bag. This was the moment of truth. Either she would turn him down or she wouldn't. Maybe it would be a little more helpful if he actually _knew_ how she felt, but as far as Calleigh went, everything about her was an enigma. He knew women like he knew the back of his hand, but Calleigh was no ordinary woman. He would have to dive in and may the Lord cushion his fall. If anything, he could just tell her the flan was from his mother, and the present? Eh, well, for someone else. Drop the flan and haul ass. Drop the flan and haul ass. That sounded more than alright in his mind.

He knocked on her door, a little hesitantly; a sissy knock. Horrible start. So he knocked again, a little more forceful. A burly knock, the knock of a man who never wore make up as a child. Perfect.

A couple of seconds later, she opened the door, and before her brain processed the information she saw right in front of her, Eric could see a little stress in her eyes. But then, when she realized it was him there, her eyes softened and she smiled.

"Eric. What are you doing here?"

"I, uh—" Eric hesitated, feeling his throat practically drying into dust. Either he was lightheaded due to dehydration or the sight of Calleigh, make up nearly gone, barefooted, hair in need of a brush, pressing her cheek to the door frame. Something about her looking all domestic just made him ten times more anxious than he had been.

"I was just in the neighborhood," he added.

"Yours or mine?"

"Honestly, I'm not sure," Eric said. Hands sweating, he attempted to smile. "Can I come in?"

"Sure," Calleigh said, opening the door all the way. She frowned at the way he was acting, like he was running from the law; no time to figure it out, though. "I have to finish packing real quick, okay? My dad's on his way over. I'll be _right_ out."

"Okay," Eric said and watched as she bolted into her bedroom. He looked around her apartment like he had never seen it before. A tiny fake Christmas tree stood in a corner but no other Christmas paraphernalia in sight. Just like Calleigh. Just right.

"So what are you doing here?" Calleigh called from the bedroom.

Eric approached the hallway but stayed there, not knowing if walking into her bedroom was an invasion of her privacy or not. Calleigh was weird about her personal things.

"My mom sent you a flan," Eric said.

Calleigh's head suddenly came into view, her eyebrows furrowed. "Just now?"

"Yeah," Eric said.

Calleigh looked confused. "She sent me a flan right now."

"Yeah."

"You went home, told her to make some flan, and she baked it in forty five minutes?"

Eric smiled. "No, it was already made."

"She made me a flan on top of having to cook for twenty thousand people?" Calleigh said, her hand over her heart. "That is so sweet!"

"Please, Calleigh, don't let her play you like that. Food is what she uses to lure you into a false sense of security before she attacks," Eric said as she disappeared into the bedroom again.

Calleigh shrugged her shoulders. "Hey, as long as I get my flan she can suck the life out of me."

Eric ignored that, frowned, and leaned against the wall. "Why is she calling you every week?"

"She doesn't call me every week—"

"No?"

"Just every once in a while."

"Why is she calling you _at all_?" he asked, taking one step closer to the bedroom.

"I don't know. Why do _you_ call me sometimes?" she said.

"We're friends."

"Okay."

"Okay, but you can't be friends with my mom," Eric said.

Calleigh scoffed. "Excuse me? I can be friends with your dead dog if I wanted to. What are you, the Thought Police?"

He chose to ignore that. Even though he couldn't see her, he could picture her expression right now. It wasn't very welcoming. "Where did she get your number?"

"I gave it to her."

"When?"

"I ran into her a few months ago," she said, her tone casual again.

"My mother doesn't ever leave Little Havana," Eric said. "What were you doing in Little Havana?"

"It's not a leper colony, Eric. People are allowed to go in and out without getting shot by snipers, not that it's any of your business where I go during my time off," Calleigh said, tying her hair into a messy pony tail.

Eric frowned. This was a little too weird. "Well why didn't you tell me?"

"I don't know," Calleigh said. "Never came up in conversation."

"Calleigh, I think if your mom called me out of the blue just to chat, I'd tell you as soon as she hung up. It's pretty much a conversation _starter_," Eric said. "Don't you think it's weird my mother woke up one day and thought, 'oh, look at that, it's raining. I wonder how Calleigh feels about rain. I should just call her and ask.'"

"Well, rest assured my mother will never call you to chat, Eric, she barely calls _me_," Calleigh said.

Eric didn't say anything, because as light as her tone was, what she had just said was kinda sad. She probably hadn't meant it like that, but it was still the truth, and now he understood. And suddenly he felt like an idiot. Of course his mother hadn't woken up one day and just decided to call Calleigh. Everything his mother did had an ulterior motive behind it. And maybe this was just her way of, for lack of a better term, be a mother to Calleigh. But why was Calleigh okay with this? He couldn't even ask her if she had a good night without her snapping at him for trying to, as she put it, "undermine her". And yet here she was, completely willing to be adopted by Clorinda Delko.

This only made him wonder if his feelings for Calleigh had suddenly taken a turn down Incest Boulevard. That would just be God's final 'fuck you, Eric Delko'.

But despite it all, when Calleigh came out of the bedroom, dragging a huge bag behind her, there was a bright smile on her face.

"Don't worry; I'm not going to steal your mommy," she teased.

Eric smiled. "No, hey, trust me. You want her, you take her. I'm just trying to warn you, that's all."

"Oh yeah, she might cook for me every once in a while. You're right. What a _monster_!"

Eric nodded, following her into the living room. "Go ahead, laugh it up. But I've known her for twenty eight years. Do you know what I have to go through to get her to make a flan for me? And you don't even have to ask."

"Well, she must like me better than she likes you, then," she teased with a wink, walked into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator.

"No, this is what's called Phase One: aww, look at the new little baby, she's so cute!" Eric mocked. "Then you'll get to Phase Two: pick up your own toys. Then Phrase Three: nobody likes an awkward teenager, and eventually Phase Four: you're eighteen now, get the hell out of my house."

Calleigh gave him a look. "Eric, you are reading way too much into this. And I don't need you to lecture me because I'm a big girl and I can take care of myself," she said and grinned. "Now give me my flan."

With a sigh, Eric planted the bag on the counter that divided the kitchen from the living room. He took out the boxed dessert and gave it to her. "Remember the story of Adam and Eve and the apple?"

"Yeah," Calleigh said; her eyes widened and her mouth watered when she opened the box and saw the perfectly round flan.

"Just replace the words 'apple' with 'flan' and 'Lucifer' with 'Clorinda'. That's all I'm gonna say."

She ignored that and retrieved two little plates from a cabinet. "Are you gonna have some?"

"Of _course_," Eric said.

Calleigh chuckled, put the plates on the counter, and glanced at the bag. "What's that?" she asked casually.

Eric's smile disappeared.

Fuck!

He looked at the bag, and then at Calleigh. She wasn't staring at it anymore, but her eyes were on the flan as she carefully cut a piece with a knife. His heart began to race and he didn't move. Couldn't seem to say anything, either. Drop the flan and haul ass, his mind reminded him. But the words were suddenly meaningless. Flan? What flan?

He still had a pretty big gap there, though. She wasn't even paying attention to him, probably didn't even care what was in the bag. He could say it was nothing and leave. He could say it was a gift for his sister and leave it at that. But something inside of him suddenly wanted to do this. His suicidal alter, maybe. But for an alter, it sure was powerful.

And then suddenly his hands were reaching into the bag without his permission. He took a silent deep breath, and in a matter of microseconds, just decided to take the dive. Be a man. It's not a proposal, just a gift. Nobody likes a drama queen. Especially when said drama queen is a grown man.

Oh, fuck it.

"What, this?" he asked innocently, a horrible, horrible act, but it caught her attention.

Calleigh looked at the wrapped gift, her face suddenly serious.

"I don't know," Eric said. "I woke up this morning and found it under my tree," he added, placing the wrapped box in front of her. "It has your name on it, so I think Santa Claus left it for you. I don't know, maybe he got the wrong address."

Calleigh stared at the box suspiciously, and a dry smile suddenly appeared on her face. "Santa Claus doesn't make his rounds until tonight."

"Does he?" Eric teased. "Well, he must have started early this year. Beat the traffic."

Calleigh shook her head reluctantly, looking nervous. "Eric—"

"Open it," he said encouragingly, pushing it towards her.

Calleigh stared at the box, still, like it would explode at any moment. She chuckled nervously and looked at Eric. "I couldn't get you anything."

Eric shrugged his shoulders. "So?"

"So, this," Calleigh stuttered, "I can't, I don't..." she sighed, a bit frustrated at her inability to talk in whole sentences. "What is it?"

"I don't know," Eric said, futilely feigning innocence. "Open it."

Embarrassed and in super slow motion, Calleigh reluctantly grabbed the box. A bit heavy, and that made her feel even more nervous. She looked at Eric again, and the smile on his face was so big she couldn't even stop her cheeks from turning bright red. Hesitantly, she removed the bow and looked for a place where she could open it without breaking the paper, encouraged by the fact that she very much didn't want to open this, and any excuse to delay it was worth a shot.

"Oh, for God's sake, Calleigh, just rip it apart!" Eric said impatiently.

"I don't wanna break it!" Calleigh said defensively.

"It's made of wood, not gold," Eric said.

Calleigh sighed, finally just used the knife to cut the wrapping paper away. And when the paper was all gone, she found herself staring at a wooden box. She looked up at Eric. "Cigars?"

Eric shrugged his shoulders playfully. "What are you asking _me_ for?"

Like she was defusing a nuclear bomb, Calleigh closed her eyes, opened the box, opened her eyes again, and her jaw nearly hit the floor. "Oh my God."

Eric grinned, still a bit nervous. 'Oh my God' could still go either way. "Do you like it?"

Calleigh remained silent, looking at the pistol, which was just resting on a red velvet bed. It wasn't shiny or very elegant, in fact, it was even kinda dirty, but she was sure she had never seen anything so amazing in her life. "Eric—"

"It's a Luger," Eric said, excited and proud of himself.

"I know," Calleigh said, suddenly out of breath, scared she might drop the thing at any moment.

Thankfully, Eric reached for it and took it out of the box. "But a real one, made in 1938."

Calleigh's mouth remained wide open, staring at the pistol in his hands like it was something from another world. In a way it was, but this all seemed unreal. "Where did you get it?"

"Buddy of mine's a collector," Eric said. "I told him to look out for one last year and he finally called me a couple of months ago."

"Last _year_?" Calleigh asked, aghast. "Eric, these things are expensive!"

"Nah," Eric said dismissively.

"Yes they are," she exclaimed, her hand suddenly on her stomach like she was about to throw up. "Do you know how many times my grandfather nearly got himself killed, trying to find one of these? And that was in the forties!"

"Well, they didn't have internet in the forties," Eric joked, but she wasn't laughing or even smiling, just looking at him like he had grown a second head.

"You do realize that this gun was used in World War II?"

"Yeah."

"And now you're giving it to me, on December 24th, 2004?" There was no aggressiveness in her tone, just some kind of strange hybrid between amusement and shock.

"Well," Eric said. "I thought it would be a nice gift. I don't know if it works, but you can, I don't know, use it as decoration?"

He extended it forward so she could grab it and Calleigh just stared at it reluctantly. Finally, her hand reached for it and she was pretty sure she would have an orgasm right at that moment, with a Luger in one hand and a knife in the other. 9mm Parabellum, matching magazine, excellent walnut grips; it fit into her hand like a glove. The numbers 1938 were engraved over the chamber; definitely not a fake, which translated into 'definitely not cheap'.

Suddenly she shook her head and tried to give it back to him. "Oh, Eric, I can't accept this."

Eric chuckled, "Calleigh, in the last couple of days I've been blinded, drugged, yelled at, smacked, mocked, insulted, assaulted by a snow in a can, and had my heart broken by one of Horatio's stupid lessons. The least you could do is take the gift so at least _something_ goes right for me this Christmas."

"But I didn't get you anything," Calleigh said, putting the pistol back in its box and pushing it towards him.

"Who cares!"

"_I_ care!" Calleigh exclaimed, suddenly pacing and not making much sense. She kept babbling about something or other as she came out of the kitchen and began to walk circles around the living room. "I mean, you go through all this trouble... and then I don't even... a _fucking_ Luger, Eric!"

Eric jumped back, having never heard Calleigh cuss before. It was a bit intimidating, but mostly just hot as hell.

"So you like it?" he asked coyly.

Calleigh stopped pacing and her face fell. "Are you _insane_?"

Eric smiled. "I asked first."

"Eric!"

"Calleigh," he exclaimed. "I don't care if you got me a gift or not. I got you this; I want you to have it because I know how much you like guns. That's it. It doesn't even sound complicated, just take it. If you don't like it, I'm sure I'm not gonna have any problems selling it forward. But if you do like it, then... that's it, that's all I want. That's my gift, seeing you happy."

Calleigh's eyes widened, but they were softer this time. "Seeing people happy is not a gift, Eric. The gift of sight, maybe, but that's not a gift _I_ gave you. A gift is a boat, or a car or, or... a fucking _diving_ watch. God! I can't believe I didn't think of that before!"

"Well, I already have one," Eric said humorously. "So it's a good thing you didn't."

She shook her head, suddenly looking like she was on the verge of tears. "I can't believe you're making fun of me right now."

"I know. I removed the bullets," Eric said playfully. "Wasn't counting on the knife, though."

Calleigh looked at the knife in her hand, realizing for the first time how strongly she was gripping it and how many times she had pointed it at Eric in the last couple of minutes. Self conscious, she put it down on the coffee table, and then suddenly began to laugh. Not lightly, either, but in a way that made Eric feel even more intimidated. Scared. This was definitely not the reaction he had expected. Murder, yes. Not laughter.

"Is that a happy laugh or a 'five seconds before bang bang' laugh?" he asked hesitantly.

Calleigh nodded and crossed her arms. "It's a happy laugh."

"Good," Eric said, relieved. "So you like it."

"I," Calleigh breathed. "... _love_ it."

"And you're gonna keep it? You're not gonna sell it and write me a check?"

Calleigh shook her head.

"Okay," Eric smiled. "Now how 'bout that flan?"

"What?" Calleigh asked, face serious again. "You just show up, give me a Luger, eat some flan, and leave?"

Eric was right back to confused, after everything had gone so well. "Should I have eaten the flan first?"

"Eric," Calleigh chuckled dryly and shook her head. "You have been planning this for a _year_."

"Well, not exactly," Eric said. "I _thought_ of it last year, technically I've only been planning it for two months."

"Two months is still a long time to plan giving somebody a gift," Calleigh said.

"Yes, but isn't time relative?"

"No! Well... yes, scientifically, but... would you just stop being a smart ass and," she stopped there and sighed again, frustrated. She couldn't help it. Eric had just spent God knows how much money on a gun for her, and he didn't seem to be upset about the fact that she didn't get him _anything_. Not a watch, not a shirt; not even a pair of socks. Nothing. She felt terrible, embarrassed and inadequate but he was acting like it was no big deal. How was she supposed to react to that?

"Calleigh, I don't want a gift," he said, like he was somehow reading her thoughts. "I don't care. I _really_ don't."

"I know you don't," Calleigh said. "But I just feel... bad. I just—"

"Why?"

Calleigh looked at the floor, feeling like she was running out of words. "I feel like... you just got the short end of the stick here."

Eric sighed again, wondering if he would ever convince her that it was fine. Not that he was shocked; this was Calleigh, in essence. Still could be a little frustrating at times.

"Calleigh, this gun couldn't possibly make you any happier than the way I feel..." he stopped abruptly when he realized what he was saying, but then took a deep breath and continued anyway, "right now, being here with you. I'm not saying that to make you feel better, it's the truth. If you don't believe me, it's okay, that's your choice, but it's still the truth."

Calleigh bit her lip, her head still lowered. It wasn't until she looked at him that she really believed what he was saying. And what he meant. She was sure she had never seen Eric so serious in her life. It was both terrifying and thrilling at the same time.

"But if you wanna get me a gift so you can sleep better at night, okay, well go ahead. But I'm telling you, I don't want one, I don't need one, to be honest I hadn't even _thought_ about it," he finished.

Calleigh took a deep breath. "I think it would help me sleep better at night."

"Okay, then," Eric said. "Go ahead and buy me a gift."

"Don't have to," she said.

"Exactly! That's what I've been telling you a—"

"No, Eric," she interrupted him, walked over and he looked even more confused now that she was right in front of him. "I don't have to _buy_ it."

Eric frowned, and was about to ask what the hell was going on when her fingers laced themselves through his fingers and he felt her lips pressed against his lips.

Okay.

It was a chaste kiss, really; innocent, merely a peck. At least that's what Calleigh had intended originally, because as she pulled back and they shared a look and a smile, she felt the _need_ for another chaste, innocent peck. The chastity of it vanished immediately, though, when her hand came to rest on the back of his neck and she pulled him down towards her, and Eric finally reacted to what was happening when his hand tangled itself up in her hair, his own attempt to help their lips mold better together, or _faster_ together, whichever came first.

Just because he had reacted, though, didn't mean Eric really understood what was happening. All he knew was he was standing in Calleigh Duquesne's living room and he was kissing her. Or she was kissing him. The details didn't seem to matter. What mattered was the way she nibbled on his lower lip, the way she scratched the back of his neck lightly, making his hairs stand on end, the way she got on her tip toes to reach him. It seemed absurd that he was kissing Calleigh Duquesne, that he had been waiting years to do so and now that it was finally happening only the little insignificant details seemed to stand out the most. But he merely took it as a metaphor of something he had yet to figure out and brushed it aside. Really, beggars can't be choosers.

Certainly not when he felt her tongue flicker on his lower lip, either, because at that moment his mind completely ceased to exist and all that remained was body. The body let out a frustrated sigh, though, when he was about to taste the deeper crevices of her mouth and she pulled away.

Still, she remained there, her hand resting on the side of his face, her lips inches away from his, and looking devilish.

"How's that?" she asked.

Eric chuckled, or at least tried to; it came out as some kind of playful grunt. "Nice," he said and smiled. "Too bad it's not the right size."

"Oh, darn."

"Yeah, I'm gonna have to return it," he teased her.

As she chuckled he pressed his lips to hers, bending his knees slightly so she wouldn't have to do all the work. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her mouth parting slightly to allow him instant access.

And really, he wasn't one to stop at a green light.

He tasted the rim of her lips first, his hands pressing her closer to his body, eliciting a timid moan from the back of her throat and it nearly drove him into oblivion, knowing he could make her do that so easily when all this time he had had her standing on an unreachable pedestal. His tongue probed deeper and he wondered if she ever tried a spoonful of the flan while he had been having his little panic attack, because suddenly she tasted like vanilla and caramel and something else he couldn't quite figure out but was probably just Calleigh. Eric decided right there that liked this recipe much, much better than his mother's.

And as innocent as Calleigh liked to pretend to be, she definitely had a couple of tricks up her sleeve, because Eric never noticed when her hands had abandoned the back of his neck to touch pretty much everything she could under his shirt. That's when it really hit him: that this was actually happening, that he hadn't just drifted into one of his pathetic midday fantasies at the lab. Because her nails were scratching his stomach and though they were gentle they were still scratching, feeling and exploring as her tongue dipped in and out of his mouth, and all her movements seemed to be perfectly in tempo as though they were choreographed.

It was mind blowing.

So it wasn't long before Eric found himself backing her up against the counter, his lips leaving hers to trail a path down her jaw line and then derailing on to her neck, her salty skin a wonderful contrast to her sugary lips. Calleigh moaned again, merely a bit louder than the first time and not really knowing what to do with her hands, she somehow managed to frame his face and bring him back up again, their lips colliding gently before they resumed the fast tempo from before.

And then she began to wonder if it was summer or winter, because the room was suddenly hot, air was scarce, and she had a bit of a hard time trying to catch her breath, but somehow could not find the will power to disentangle herself from Eric. It was during all this confusion that her mind heard a buzzer, seemingly miles away.

Eric instantly moaned in protest, crushing Calleigh harder against his body so she couldn't move. "Don't go."

It was only when he said that that Calleigh realized she hadn't been hearing things. Her buzzer was literally going off.

"That's my dad," she said, taking the opportunity to catch her breath. She was about to add something to that but Eric kissed her again, probably an attempt to distract her from more pressing matters. It worked.

"Ignore it and he'll go away," Eric breathed, raw and raspy.

Calleigh moaned into his mouth, more out of protest than pleasure. "He's not a homeless person."

Lips still molded together, they somehow managed to stumble their way towards the small foyer, where Eric pinned her against the door. Calleigh broke the kiss and blindly felt around the wall until she found the intercom; itching fingers pressed the little white button.

"Be right there, dad," she said, trying to sound as normal as possible, trying to sound as casual as possible, trying to sound as if she didn't have Eric's body pressed against hers, his lips trailing kisses down her neck, his hands tugging her shirt out of her jeans. Because if her father knew what was happening in her apartment right now, she was sure Eric's life would simply end tonight, no question about that

"Hurry up, Calleigh. I'm double parked."

Calleigh sighed and pressed the button again. "Five minutes!"

"Five minutes?" Eric teased.

"Shut up," Calleigh breathed. Her hands gripped fistfuls of his shirt aggressively and their lips crashed together almost desperately, knowing she wasn't going to see Eric for two whole weeks and this was _all_ she was going to have, just five minutes of sloppy kisses and wandering hands and they might as well make the most of it now, because she was pretty sure those two weeks would _not_ go by in the blink of an eye.

Eric must've realized that, too, because his kisses became frantic and his movements unpredictable; his hands roamed down her back, settled on her buttocks and he lifted her up, started walking her... somewhere and finally settled for the couch. He climbed on top of her, knowing there was no way they would be able to get far in five minutes, but that didn't mean they couldn't at least try. Maybe her father's notion of five minutes was much different than theirs. Maybe in Duke Duquesne's world, five minutes really meant three days, or even a week.

And yeah, he was kidding himself again, but for the next two weeks he would have to rely on the memory of these five minutes to get him through the days and dammit if he wasn't gonna make the best of it.

Luckily, Calleigh was cooperating, her body arching up to his encouragingly; she was making little breathy noises that nearly convinced Eric five minutes was all he would really need here. Against his better judgment he broke another kiss and began to alternatively suck salty bits of skin and gently biting others, all the way to her chest. Jittery fingers began to unbutton her shirt, his lips following in their wake... when the buzzer went off again.

"Dammit!" Eric groaned. "Two minutes and thirteen seconds is not five minutes!"

Calleigh nearly jumped when she heard him groan like that, it was the most un-Eric thing she had heard in her life. But then she smiled, and then chuckled, and then suddenly began to laugh; her head resting back on the couch as she realized this was as far as they would have to go.

"Laughter. How encouraging," Eric said sarcastically, moving up to rest his forehead against hers.

She slapped the side of his face a couple of times and pecked him on the lips, and Eric didn't need any more clues. Yup, it was over. Over. He didn't even have the time to get to second. This is what he got for chit chatting too much with the first base coach. Now he was out. Frustrated, he buried his face in her neck and sighed, admitting defeat.

"Fuck," he muttered.

Calleigh stared at the ceiling and her hand patted his butt. "Well, it was worth a shot."

Eric moaned something unintelligible against her neck, afraid to move, fearing the jerk of a finger would get the buzzer shouting again. When he realized he would have to move before he crushed all of Calleigh's ribs, he pulled back to look at her.

He groaned. If that buzzing sound had been painful, moving was even worse, especially since one of Calleigh's legs was sandwiched between his.

Calleigh chuckled and her fingers came up to try and get rid of the smeared lipstick on his lips and around his mouth. In a hazy moment, though, she found herself drawn to his lips again, but as soon as they touched, the intercom went off again.

"Does he have a camera hidden here somewhere?" Eric exclaimed angrily.

Calleigh didn't say anything, but gently tried to get out from under his body. Uncomfortable, Eric pulled back and sat on the other side of the couch, and it wasn't until he did this that he realized his pants were unbuttoned and his zipper was down. Huh? When did _that_ happen?

Calleigh buttoned her shirt, and as she walked by Eric she caressed his cheek. "Sorry."

"No, hey," Eric said, taking a deep breath and letting it out.

"Bad timing, I guess," she added, walking towards the foyer again.

"Yeah, a little planning wouldn't hurt."

"Should've told you he's very punctual."

"Oh, you meant _my_ bad timing," Eric said. "Right. Sorry."

Calleigh shook her head and pressed the little white button again. "I'm locking the door right now."

"We're not flying there, Calleigh," Duke said.

"I know, dad," Calleigh replied. She let go of the button and on her way to the kitchen stopped to check at her reflection in a small mirror on the wall. Her hair was a mess, there was lipstick all over her face, and her lips were swollen. She very much doubted her father wouldn't notice what was happening, considering Eric's lips were looking swollen as well, and Eric was possibly the _worst_ liar she had ever known. Not to mention the fact that she had the smell of his cologne all over her skin and clothes. A blind, deaf, mute, and mentally challenged person could figure it out. But she still tried to make herself as presentable as possible. If anything, she'd just tell her dad Eric has laryngitis and can't talk, even though Eric always gave himself away even before he opened his mouth. If that didn't work... well, they would just have to run really, _really_ fast.

She walked into the kitchen to put the flan back into the bag Eric had brought. Carefully, she put his gift inside her luggage and sighed, looking around. Everything looked clean and normal.

Except for the six foot tall man sulking on her couch.

"You okay?" she asked.

Eric let out a sigh. "Ask me again in two weeks."

Calleigh chuckled. "Come on, say hello to my dad."

"Uh," Eric said hesitantly, "you're gonna have to give me a couple of minutes."

"Why?" Calleigh asked innocently.

Eric didn't say anything, but just kinda looked around the room suggestively.

Didn't take long for Calleigh to figure out what he meant. "Oh."

"Yes, _oh_," Eric said, feeling a bit exposed, despite the cushion that strategically rested on his lap.

"Well, just," Calleigh frowned, knowing if they didn't get out of her in five seconds, her father was gonna have a fit. "Just turn it off."

"It's not a light switch, Calleigh," Eric protested.

"Then tuck your shirt out," Calleigh said.

"It's not long enough."

Calleigh sighed again. "Think unpleasant thoughts."

"Like what?"

She covered her eyes with her hand, trying to come up with something. "Your parents having sex?"

Eric shook his head.

"Your grandparents having sex."

Shook his head again.

Calleigh grimaced and bit her lower lip. "Horatio having sex?"

Eric blinked. "Okay, let's go."

Calleigh grinned, and didn't even complain when he walked over and picked up her bag for her. Hey, it was pretty heavy, and Eric would probably need something to distract her father from noticing what was happening south of the border, just in case. They walked out and as she locked her door Eric snaked his arm around her waist, his lips grazing the back of her neck.

"Eric," she complained weakly.

"Let's just slip out the back; we'll send him a postcard from Mexico," Eric said.

"Very Romeo-esque of you, but I don't think your family would appreciate that, either," Calleigh said.

"We're not really that close. They'll never notice."

Calleigh turned around and smiled. "Let's go."

Eric sighed and whined, every step he took feeling more and more like the final walk towards the electric chair. Calleigh seemed to be taking it much better, linking her arm through his and lost in thought, while he was five seconds away from throwing himself on the floor, grab her leg and never let her go. If the prospect of two Calleigh-less weeks had sounded bad back at the lab, it was much worse now, knowing they could spend every second of those thirteen days in bed... well, except for the thing they had to do during the day, the whole stopping crimes deal, but regardless. Had he known it would be like this he never would've stopped by, because now that he knew, _really_ knew how she tasted and smelled and felt like, there was no way he would be able to survive thirteen days without her. Hell, ten seconds ago he was kissing the back of her neck and he was already going through withdrawals. This was going to be unbearable.

As they reached the elevators, Eric scratched the back of his neck hesitantly. "Listen, about those stories my mom tells you—"

Calleigh grinned instantly. "I can't believe you got your pee pee caught in a—"

"I was just," Eric interrupted loudly, trying to drown out her words, "testing... something... out."

"With your pee pee?" Calleigh chuckled.

Eric closed his eyes indignantly. "I was three, okay? And I would appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone about it."

Calleigh pressed the elevator button and gave him a look. "Come on, Eric. I think it's very cute."

"No, it's not," he said. "It's humiliating."

"Yeah, to you," Calleigh said. "To me? Hilarious."

Eric rolled his eyes. "Ha ha."

"Besides," she said, taking his hands and making them meet on her lower back. "There's no reason to be paranoid."

"Yeah?" Eric smirked. "You know, my mom gets her adjectives wrong _all_ the time."

Calleigh kissed him. "Well, English is _very_ hard."

"Very, very hard," Eric added suggestively. Calleigh laughed, but stopped when the elevator arrived.

Eric leaned against the side and she leaned into him, lacing her fingers through his. He rested his forehead on the top of her head and closed his eyes, just trying to enjoy these last few seconds as much as he could. For a moment he thought of pressing the emergency button, but he knew Calleigh wouldn't appreciate that and neither would her father. So he settled for inhaling as much of her scent as possible, hoping it would stay in his nostrils for two whole weeks and make the hours trickle by faster.

But then he also remembered that, though they hadn't reached any kind of verbal agreement, tonight had been the beginning of something he thought he'd never be able to materialize, and as the elevator reached the lobby with a loud ding, he let her go without throwing any tantrums or acting like a child. From the elevator they could see her father, who spotted Calleigh immediately and ran towards his car, and Eric took the opportunity to kiss her one last time, knowing they wouldn't be able to say good bye properly in front of her father.

Calleigh sighed, running her fingers through his lips again to try and erase her lipstick off his skin. "I'm taking my cell phone," she said suggestively.

Eric chuckled, grabbed her hand and kissed it tenderly. "Can't wait to see that bill."

Calleigh smiled. "We're okay?"

"Absolutely," Eric said, mimicking her smile. "There's always next Christmas."

The End


End file.
